UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 

Dr. Ernest  Carroll  Moor 


OTttdttr,  £).£>. 


THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME. 

PERSONAL  POWER.  Counsel*  to  College 
Men. 

THE  MAKING  AND  UNMAKING  OF  THE 
PREACH  ER.  Lectures  on  the  Lyman  Beecher 
Foundation,  Yale  University,  1898. 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 


THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME 

AND   OTHER  ARTICLES 


THE 
NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME 

AND  OTHER  ARTICLES 

CONTRIBUTED  TO  THE  ATLANTIC  MONTHLY 

DURING  THE  OCCUPANCY  OF  THE 

PERIOD  DESCRIBED 

BY 

WILLIAM  JEWETT  TUCKER 

PRESIDENT  EMERITUS  OF  DARTMOUTH 
COLLEGE 


BOSTON   AND   NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON   MIFFLIN  COMPANY 


1916 


COPYRIGHT,   1910,   ipll,   1913,  1915,  AND   1916 

BY  THB   ATLANTIC   MONTHLY   COMPANY 
COPYRIGHT,  1916,  BY  WILLIAM  JBWETT  TUCKER 

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 

Published  November  /g/6 


TO 

EDWARD  TUCK 

IN   REMEMBRANCE   OF  THE   EARLY    DAYS 

OF   COLLEGE   COMPANIONSHIP   AND    IN   APPRECIATION   OF    A 

CAREER     HONORABLE    ALIKE    IN    DIPLOMACY,    IN 

FINANCE,   AND   IN   THE   MORE   ADVANCED 

FORMS   OF    MODERN    PHILANTHROPY 


PREFACE 

As  this  book  had  its  origin  within  the  period 
and  under  the  conditions  described  as  the  New 
Reservation  of  Time,  it  seemed  fit  that  I  should 
recognize  this  fact  in  the  title.  And  for  the  same 
reason  I  allow  myself  a  further  word  of  personal 
explanation. 

Two  years  before  I  reached  the  accepted  age  for 
retirement  I  passed  through  a  long  and  serious 
illness  which  necessitated  my  partial  withdrawal 
from  the  duties  of  the  presidency  of  Dartmouth 
College.  The  period,  therefore,  of  complete  with- 
drawal, when  it  was  possible  to  bring  it  about, 
came  as  a  welcome  relief,  made  peculiarly  grate- 
ful by  my  retirement  upon  the  Amos  Tuck 
Foundation,  at  the  request  of  Mr.  Edward  Tuck, 
the  donor  of  the  fund.  I  was  not  a  little  surprised, 
however,  to  find,  as  I  passed  into  retirement,  that 
the  zest  for  work  remained  undiminished  under 
changed  circumstances  and  under  reduced  strength. 
The  discovery,  I  need  not  say,  was  most  gratifying, 
and  greatly  stimulated  the  desire  to  make  some 
satisfactory  use  of  an  invalided  age.  The  diffi- 
culty of  adjusting  myself  to  restricted  physical 
conditions,  including  the  partial  loss  of  sight,  was 


viii  PREFACE 

very  much  relieved  by  ready  and  most  competent 
aid  from  within  the  home.  Indeed,  I  soon  learned, 
as  many  before  me  had  been  taught  the  lesson, 
that  the  experiences  which  make  us  conscious  of 
our  dependence  upon  others  have  their  compensa- 
tion in  those  closer  companionships  through  which 
we  best  realize  the  mutual  enjoyments  of  the  intel- 
lectual life. 

The  readjustment  of  my  intellectual  methods 
and  habits  was  not  so  easy  to  effect.  I  had  been 
trained  professionally,  and  later  by  the  require- 
ments of  my  position,  to  the  habit  of  public  speech, 
for  which  I  was  now  incapacitated.  For  further 
productive  work  it  seemed  to  be  necessary  to  at- 
tempt the  change  from  the  spoken  to  the  written 
style  —  a  change  by  no  means  to  be  attempted 
light-heartedly.  One  might  not  assume  that  he 
could  so  far  divest  himself  of  the  speaking  habit 
that  it  would  not  be  liable  to  betray  him.  I  doubt 
in  fact  if  the  public  speaker  can  ever  hope  to 
make  himself  over  beyond  recognition  into  the 
essayist.  The  essay  reaches  back  into  a  habit  of 
thought  as  clearly  its  own  as  that' which  belongs 
to  public  speech,  and  equally  necessary  to  natural- 
ness and  ease  of  expression. 

In  this  dilemma  I  took  refuge  in  the  distinction, 
which  I  think  is  a  fair  one,  between  the  essay  and 
the  article.  The  article  has  acquired  a  definite  and 


PREFACE  ix 

distinct  place  in  the  discussion  of  current  topics. 
Its  direct  object  is  some  immediate  effect  upon 
public  opinion.  In  this  immediateness  of  purpose 
it  differs  essentially  from  the  essay.  It  differs  also 
in  regard  to  the  variety  of  means  through  which  it 
may  seek  to  produce  the  requisite  effect.  It  may 
be  strictly  informing,  it  may  be  argumentative,  it 
may  pursue  its  end  with  moral  urgency.  In  all  of 
which  respects  the  article  has  close  resemblance 
to  public  address,  and  opens  the  way,  for  one  ac- 
customed to  this  form  of  expression,  to  the  use 
under  proper  restraints  of  the  written  page.  It 
may  also  be  added  that  the  subject-matter  of  public 
thought  during  the  present  decade,  especially  in 
the  range  of  its  appeal  to  the  ethical  sense,  has 
given  a  notable  stimulus  to  the  type  of  literary 
composition  now  very  generally  adopted  in  the 
magazine  article. 

I  am  indebted  to  the  hospitality  of  the  "Atlantic 
Monthly  "  for  the  publication  of  the  articles  which 
make  up  the  bulk  of  this  volume,  and  to  the 
courtesy  of  the  Editor  for  the  liberty  to  reproduce 
them  in  book  form.  With  one  slight  change  the 
"Atlantic"  articles  are  arranged  in  the  order  in 
which  they  appeared  in  the  magazine.  The  order 
shows  at  a  glance  the  increasing  seriousness  of  the 
subjects  which  have  occupied  the  public  mind. 

Any  one  who  discusses  current  issues  in  times  like 


x  PREFACE 

those  through  which  we  are  now  passing  is  made 
continually  conscious  of  the  liability  of  render- 
ing imperfect  estimates  of  men  and  of  policies,  as 
well  as  of  encountering  the  stern  contradiction  of 
events.  But  as  neither  criticism  nor  prophecy  is 
the  chief  function  of  interpretation,  it  may  be  a 
reasonable  hope  that  every  serious  attempt  to 
reach  into  the  meaning  of  those  movements  and 
events  which  are  now  dominating  our  lives,  may 
have  some  beneficial  if  not  altogether  permanent 
result.  If  the  saying  of  Huxley  was  true  in  the 
period  of  intellectual  and  moral  confusion  which 
called  it  forth,  much  more  may  we  assume  that  it 
is  true,  and  that  it  ought  to  be  made  operative, 
now:  "So  far  as  we  possess  a  power  of  bettering 
things,  it  is  our  paramount  duty  to  use  it,  and  to 
train  all  our  intellect  and  energy  for  this  supreme 
service  to  our  kind." 

WILLIAM  JEWETT  TUCKER 


HANOVER,  NEW  HAMPSHIRE 
September,  1916 


CONTENTS 

I 

THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME 1 

(Atlantic  Monthly,  August,  1910) 

II 

UNDEBQRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP 23 

(Atlantic  Monthly,  June,  1911) 

III 

THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY 50 

(Atlantic  Monthly,  October,  1913) 

IV 

NOTES  ON  THE  PROGRESS  OF  THE  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE    79 
(Atlantic  Monthly,  September,  1915) 

V 

THE  ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR      .      .      .      .119 
(Atlantic  Monthly,  June,  1915) 

VI 

THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM 146 

(Atlantic  Monthly,  April,  1916) 

VII 

ON  THE  CONTROL  OF  MODERN  CIVILIZATION    ,  .  172 


xii  CONTENTS 

APPENDIX 

THE  NEW  MOVEMENT  IN  HUMANITY  —  FROM  LIBERTY 

TO  UNITY 195 

(A  Reprint) 


THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME 


I 

THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF 
TIME 

"  The  years  to  be 

Of  work  and  joy,  and  that  unhoped  serene 
That  men  call  age." 

So  far  as  I  have  observed,  no  attempt  has  been 
made  to  forecast  the  social  effect  of  the  various 
systems  which  are  being  put  into  operation  for  the 
retirement  of  the  individual  worker  upon  the  ap- 
proach of  age.  It  is,  of  course,  too  early  to  judge  of 
effects  by  results,  and  speculation  is  always  liable 
to  be  errant.  But  it  is  quite  evident  that  a  new 
principle  has  been  set  at  work  in  the  social  order, 
which  invites  careful  study  at  many  points.  So- 
ciety is  fast  becoming  reorganized  around  the  prin- 
ciple of  a  definite  allotment  of  time  to  the  individ- 
ual for  the  fulfillment  of  his  part  in  the  ordinary 
tasks  and  employments.  The  termination  of  his 
period  of  associated  labor  has  been  fixed  within  the 
decade  which  falls  between  his  "threescore,"  and 
his  "threescore  and  ten"  years. 

The  intention  of  society  in  trying  to  bring  about 
this  uniform,  and,  as  it  will  prove  to  be  in  most 


2      THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME 

cases,  reduced,  allotment  of  time  for  the  ordinary 
lifework  of  the  individual,  is  twofold.  I  am  obliged 
to  use  the  term  "society"  in  this  connection;  for 
when  the  state  is  not  largely  concerned  in  any 
changes  in  the  social  order,  I  know  of  no  other  col- 
lective term  which  so  well  expresses  that  general 
consent  and  approval,  if  not  authority,  through 
which  such  changes  are  effected.  The  first  inten- 
tion, then,  of  society  in  this  matter  is  evidently 
to  secure  the  greatest  efficiency,  in  some  employ- 
ments the  best  quality  of  work,  in  others  the  larg- 
est amount.  Society  virtually  notifies  the  individ- 
ual that  the  time  will  come  when  it  will  account 
itself  better  off  without  his  service  than  with  it. 
More  efficient  workers  will  be  in  waiting  to  take 
his  place.  The  workshop,  whether  manual  or  intel- 
lectual, must  be  run  at  a  pace  with  which  he  can- 
not keep  step.  The  second,  if  equally  plain  inten- 
tion of  society  is  to  make  some  adequate  provision 
in  time  for  the  individual  worker  before  he  becomes 
a  spent  force.  It  therefore  creates  for  him  a  reser- 
vation of  time  sufficient  for  his  more  personal  uses. 
Within  this  new  region  of  personal  freedom  he  may 
enter  upon  any  pursuits,  or  engage  in  any  activities 
required  by  his  personal  necessities  or  prompted  by 
newly  awakened  ambitions. 

I  am  not  now  concerned  with  the  results  which 
society  seeks  to  gain  in  carrying  out  its  first  inten- 


THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME      3 

tion.  I  think  that  the  intention  lies  within  the 
ethics  of  business,  and  that  the  results  to  be  gained 
may  be  expected  to  warrant  the  proposed  allot- 
ment of  time.  But  what  of  the  second  intention  of 
society?  How  far  is  it  likely  to  be  realized?  What 
will  be  the  effect  of  the  scheme  upon  those  now 
entering,  and  upon  those  who  may  hereafter  enter, 
on  the  reservation  of  time  provided  for  them? 
What  is  to  be  their  habit  of  mind,  their  disposition, 
toward  the  reserved  years  which  have  heretofore 
been  reckoned  simply  as  the  years  of  age?  Will  this 
change  in  the  ordering  of  the  individual  life  in- 
tensify the  reproach  of  age,  or  remove  it?  Will  the 
exceptional  worker  in  the  ranks  of  manual  or  intel- 
lectual labor,  but  especially  the  latter,  who  feels 
that  he  is  by  no  means  a  spent  force,  accept  reluc- 
tantly the  provision  made  for  him,  as  if  closing  his 
lifework  prematurely,  or  will  he  accept  it  hopefully, 
as  if  opening  a  new  field  for  his  unspent  energies? 
And  as  for  the  average  worker,  to  whom  the  change 
will  doubtless  bring  a  sense  of  relief,  will  he  enter 
upon  the  new  "estate"  aimlessly,  or  "reverently, 
discreetly,  advisedly,  soberly,"  and  withal  in  good 
temper  and  cheer? 

These  questions  are  vital  to  society,  much  more 
so  in  fact  than  they  are  to  the  individual  himself. 
For  if  the  changed  order  is  accepted  reluctantly  or 
aimlessly,  society  will  soon  have  on  its  hands  a  very 


4      THE  NEW   RESERVATION  OF  TIME 

considerable  number  of  depressed  and  restless  per- 
sons for  whom  some  adequate  social  and  spiritual 
provision  must  be  made.  Even  if  the  earlier  release 
from  the  compulsion  of  labor  does  not  extend  the 
period  of  life,  the  segregation  of  a  retired  class  will 
attract  public  attention,  and  in  time  bring  the  in- 
dividuals who  compose  it  more  distinctly  into  evi- 
dence. It  must  also  be  considered  that  the  habit  of 
early  retirement  from  the  regular  occupations  will 
be  adopted  by  many  to  whom  the  principle  of  com- 
pulsory retirement  does  not  apply.  Indirectly  this 
will  be  a  consequence  of  the  wider  application  of 
the  principle.  So  that  we  may  fairly  assume  that 
the  new  reservation  of  time,  however  it  may  have 
been  provided,  will  soon  come  to  represent  a  social 
fact  of  no  little  significance.  The  accumulating 
force  of  the  "reserves"  will  ultimately  count  for  or 
against  society. 

It  is  manifest,  therefore,  that  if  this  scheme  of 
time,  which  is  going  into  effect  in  our  generation, 
is  to  give  us  the  happiest  social  results,  we  must  in 
some  way  create  a  habit  of  mind  corresponding  to 
the  scheme,  and  supporting  it.  We  must,  that  is, 
secure  a  revaluation  of  time  at  the  period  of  de- 
clining values  which  shall  make  the  reservation  of 
time  within  this  period  a  thing  to  be  desired,  and  to 
be  fitly  utilized.  Is  such  a  habit  possible,  and  can 
it  be  made  natural?  I  believe  that  the  habit  is 


THE   NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME      5 

possible,  and  that  it  can  be  made  natural.  And  if 
my  conclusion  should  be  accepted,  I  cannot  see  why 
this  reserved  decade  should  not  contribute  as  much 
to  the  tone  of  society,  and  to  many  of  its  higher  in- 
terests, as  any  previous  decade. 

Since  I  came  into  this  way  of  reflection  through 
recent  personal  experience,  I  make  no  apology  for 
any  personal  references  which  may  follow.  It  so 
happened  that  the  date  of  my  withdrawal  from 
administrative  work  fell  within  two  days*  of  the 
time  when  I  crossed  over  to  the  thither  side  of 
"threescore  and  ten."  It  was  a  coincidence  which 
I  had  not  noted,  so  that  I  had  given  no  thought  to 
the  appropriate  feelings  with  which  one  might  be 
expected  to  enter  upon  this  new  territory.  Having 
gone  into  residence  without  forethought  or  pre- 
meditation, what  I  am  actually  finding  to  be  true 
is,  that  the  life  there  is  most  stimulating  and 
quickening,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  I  am  cut  off 
from  certain  public  activities,  and  put  upon  a  re- 
duced regimen  for  each  day's  work. 

In  asking  myself  the  reason  for  this  somewhat 
unexpected  result,  I  have  found  what  seems  to  me 
to  be  a  sufficient  answer  in  the  new  valuation  of 
time  which  has  come  in  with  the  change.  It  is  sur- 
prising how  easily  and  naturally  one  acquires  the 
habit  of  revaluing  time  when  the  imperative  occa- 
sion arises.  It  is  also  a  grateful  surprise  to  find  how 


6      THE   NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME 

exhilarating  is  the  feeling  which  the  newly  ac- 
quired sense  of  the  value  of  time  creates.  And  yet 
why  should  not  this  be  accepted  as  the  natural 
result?  Time  has  now  become,  in  a  very  appreci- 
able way,  a  freed  possession.  Various  mortgages 
have  been  cleared  off.  And  if  time  may  thus  mean 
more  to  a  man  as  he  reaches  the  years  which  have 
been  set  apart  for  revaluation,  why  should  it  not 
be  worth  more  to  him?  and  if  worth  more  to  him, 
why  should  not  the  increment  of  value  become  the 
compensation  of  age? 

The  petition  of  the  ancient  Psalm  of  Life,  that 
we  be  taught  how  "to  number  our  days,"  is  seldom 
if  ever  offered  in  the  days  of  our  youth  or  of  our 
manhood.  Perhaps  we  are  wiser  than  we  mean  to 
be  in  thus  deferring  the  study  of  time.  What  if  we 
thereby  make  this  the  peculiar  privilege  of  age,  if 
not  its  high  prerogative?  What  if  the  revaluation 
of  time  shall  be  found  to  yield  more  than  any  orig- 
inal values  which  we  may  have  put 'upon  it?  Such 
questions  as  these  naturally  arise  when  we  think 
of  the  advantages  which  may  accrue  to  the  indi- 
vidual from  the  proper  use  of  this  new  reservation 
of  time.  We  must  allow  ourselves,  I  think,  to  ex- 
pect that  this  reservation  of  time  will  carry  with  it 
a  revaluation  of  time. 

What  are  some  of  the  possibilities,  lying  within 
this  period  of  reserved  and  revalued  time,  which 


THE   NEW  RESERVATION   OF  TIME       7 

are  open  to  those  who  have  been  withdrawn  from 
the  ranks  of  organized  or  associated  labor  —  open 
more  evidently  to  those  who  have  been  withdrawn 
from  the  comradeship  of  intellectual  work? 

I  cannot  pass  over  a  certain  satisfaction,  if  not 
enjoyment,  which  may  come  from  the  more  con- 
scious use  of  time.  As  I  have  already  intimated, 
the  unconscious  use  of  time  is  for  the  most  part  the 
better  use.  Herein  lie  the  freedom  and  the  charm 
of  youth  —  in  the  very  prodigality  of  its  use  of 
time.  Herein,  too,  lie  the  freedom  and  the  power 
of  the  man  who  is  his  own  master  —  the  thinker, 
the  professional  worker,  the  man  of  affairs,  who  is 
not  obliged  to  shut  off  work  with  eight  or  ten  hours, 
at  anybody's  command.  The  right  to  work  "over- 
time," which  usually  means  the  power  to  work 
without  taking  note  of  time,  is  a  free  and  joyous 
right.  It  makes  the  difference,  as  any  one  knows 
who  enjoys  it,  between  work  and  the  task. 

Working  "on  time"  has  the  advantage  which 
belongs  to  the  virtues  of  punctuality  and  faithful- 
ness, and  it  may  be  insisted  upon  in  the  interest  of 
justice  as  well  as  of  business,  but  it  has  its  irrita- 
tions. Even  when  the  habit  is  self-imposed  it  may 
develop  into  an  irritating  self-consciousness.  When 
the  habit  goes  over  into  the  miserly  saving  of  time, 
it  becomes  like  any  other  kind  of  miserliness,  in- 
tolerable to  a  man's  friends,  if  painfully  enjoyable 


8      THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME 

to  himself.  The  people  who  oblige  us  to  break 
through  their  petty  routines  and  systems  to  get 
some  necessary  access  to  them,  put  a  heavy  strain 
upon  friendship.  But  the  consciousness  of  time 
which  comes  with  the  thought  that  certain  years 
have  been  reserved  and  set  apart  for  us  is  entirely 
different  from  any  overconscious  use  of  time  which 
may  have  gone  before.  It  is  rather  the  appreciation 
of  a  gift  of  which  we  want  to  know  the  full  value. 
"Numbering  our  days"  means  measuring  their 
contents.  The  realized  worth  of  a  day  now  far  ex- 
ceeds the  unrealized  values  of  many  days.  One 
learns  to  anticipate  and  expect  a  day  in  its  fullness. 
Of  course  in  this  closer  estimate  and  appreciation 
of  time  there  is  no  room  for  prodigality.  The  man 
living  on  reserved  time  cannot  be  a  spendthrift; 
neither  can  he  allow  himself  to  become  a  miser,  for 
the  miserly  habit  will  make  him  timorous  and 
cowardly.  The  miser  straightway  begins  to  "num- 
ber" by  subtraction,  not  by  addition  —  one  day 
less,  not  one  day  more  to  enrich  the  sum-total. 
The  new  economy  simply  takes  due  account  of 
those  lesser  divisions  of  time  which  have  been  over- 
looked or  undervalued.  "  To-morrow,  and  to-mor- 
row, and  to-morrow"  may  seem  a  "petty  pace"  for 
mankind,  but  it  is  quite  fast  enough  for  the  man 
who  is  beginning  to  learn  the  secret  of  living  in 
the  day. 


THE   NEW  RESERVATION   OF  TIME       9 

Living  in  the  day,  I  say;  for  I  count  it  a  very 
great  liberty  to  be  allowed,  as  it  is  certainly  a  very 
great  art  to  be  able,  to  live  in  right  proportion  to 
the  present.  This  liberty,  and  the  art  to  use  it, 
make  up  another  of  the  rights  and  privileges  which 
belong  to  those  who  have  entered  upon  the  reser- 
vation of  time.  Very  few  of  us  get  much  out  of  the 
present.  We  get  the  daily  paper,  the  daily  task  with 
its  environment,  the  passing  word  with  a  friend, 
and  the  hours  of  rest  in  the  home.  Our  minds  are 
set  on  the  future.  Our  real  world  is  a  world  of  plans, 
of  expectations,  and  of  anxieties.  We  become  dis- 
ciplined to  forethought  and  prevision.  All  this 
again  is  far  better  than  that  we  should  not  live  in 
the  future.  We  are  made  to  live  that  way  in  very 
large  proportion.  But  we  cannot  believe  that  it  was 
meant  that  our  future  should  empty  our  present 
of  so  many  of  its  rightful  satisfactions. 

Possibly  there  may  be  a  tendency  on  the  part  of 
one  who  has  been  engaged  in  administrative  work, 
especially  in  academic  administration,  to  overem- 
phasize the  amount  of  time  actually  spent  in  think- 
ing for  the  future;  but  really  the  amount  is  very 
great.  The  details  of  the  office  take  more  time,  but 
not  more  thought.  Through  all  the  day's  work  one 
is  continually  asking  himself,  what  next?  what 
better  method  of  administration?  what  wider  range, 
or  more  careful  limitation,  of  instruction?  what 


10     THE   NEW   RESERVATION  OF  TIME 

better  adjustment  of  educational  force  to  social 
and  civic  needs?  what  enlargement  or  what  regula- 
tion of  the  freedom  of  students  in  the  interest  of 
character,  or  of  efficiency?  and,  withal,  what  new 
sources  of  supply  to  meet  the  increasing  demands 
of  any  given  institution?  The  answer  to  these  ques- 
tions is  not  in  abstract  conclusions,  but  in  very 
practical  terms;  in  books  and  laboratories,  in  sala- 
ries, in  dormitories,  in  standards  and  rules,  in  the 
development  in  various  ways  of  the  academic  con- 
stituency, in  the  advancement  of  learning.  For  this 
reason  I  have  had  occasion  to  say  that  the  period  of 
academic  administration  ought  as  a  rule  to  close 
earlier,  not  later,  than  the  period  of  instruction. 
When  the  time  comes  that  an  administrator  can 
plan  better  than  he  can  fulfill,  it  is  not  quite  fair  to 
his  successor  to  leave  plans  for  two,  three,  or  five 
years  for  him  to  carry  out.  Each  man  who  takes  his 
place  in  a  succession  is  entitled  to  the  advantage 
of  his  own  policy  from  the  very  beginning,  or  as 
nearly  so  as  may  be  consistent  with  his  obligations 
to  the  inheritance. 

But  making  due  allowance  for  the  personal  or 
professional  equation,  I  revert  to  the  satisfaction 
of  recovering,  or,  it  may  be,  of  discovering  one's 
rights  in  the  present.  It  is  something,  for  example, 
to  feel  that  it  is  no  longer  a  robbery  of  anybody's 
time  to  read  beyond  the  headlines  in  one's  daily 


THE   NEW   RESERVATION   OF  TIME     11 

paper,  or  to  renew  acquaintance  with  one's  library, 
or  to  reopen  the  half -closed  doors  of  friendship. 
This  satisfaction,  however,  in  the  present  is  much 
more  than  the  enjoyment  of  leisure,  or  of  unhur- 
ried work.  It  brings  us  back  again,  with  the  ad- 
vantage of  a  discriminating  experience,  into  that 
receptive  attitude  to  the  world  through  which  most 
of  us  began  the  intellectual  life.  Neither  the  aggres- 
sive nor  the  defensive  attitude  —  the  varying  atti- 
tudes of  business  —  can  give  us  the  best  things 
which  the  world  has  to  give.  There  are  some  things 
which  we  want,  which  we  cannot  earn  or  conquer; 
we  must  simply  open  our  minds  and  let  them  in. 
And  as  we  recover  something  of  this  receptive  atti- 
tude we  are  surprised  and  pleased  to  find  that  the 
world  has  not  been  in  so  much  of  a  hurry  as  we 
have  been.  Men  and  things  most  worth  knowing 
have  been  waiting  for  us.  All  that  has  been  want- 
ing is  time  for  hospitality.  One  of  the  first  things 
which  I  did,  when  I  closed  the  door  of  the  "office," 
was  to  order  the  back  numbers  of  the  "Hibbert 
Journal."  I  was  gratified  to  find  how  quickly  the 
course  of  discussion  running  through  these  num- 
bers could  make  connection  with  the  mind  of  a 
belated  reader. 

The  revaluation  of  time  under  the  conditions 
which  we  are  considering  represents  more  than  the 
conscious  use  of  it,  or  the  satisfaction  of  living  again 


12     THE   NEW  RESERVATION   OF  TIME 

in  closer  relations  with  the  present.  The  really  sig- 
nificant thing  about  it  is  that  it  refreshens  life 
by  opening  again  the  springs  of  choice.  When  we 
speak,  as  we  so  frequently  do,  of  a  man's  life-work, 
we  think  of  it  as  his  chosen  work.  In  so  saying  and 
thinking  we  bound  the  man  in  by  the  limitation 
of  time,  and  by  the  compulsion  of  an  early  choice. 
The  new  reservation  of  time  throws  off  the  limita- 
tion, and  gives  another  chance  to  the  man  who  has 
done  his  assumed  life-work,  while  the  revaluation 
of  tune  gives  him  the  spirit  and  courage  to  take  the 
second  chance. 

I  think  that  it  was  a  conceit  of  Hawthorne, 
though  I  have  not  been  able  to  verify  my  remem- 
brance, that  some  men  ought  to  have  as  many  as 
ten  chances  at  life,  through  successive  rebirths,  to 
try  as  many  careers.  A  given  career,  however  well 
chosen,  or  strenuously  pursued,  or  satisfying  in  its 
results,  seldom  expresses  the  whole  man.  And  yet 
no  man  can  afford  to  make  his  life  a  series  of  bold 
experiments.  Every  man  must  prove  himself,  and 
satisfy  himself  as  well  as  he  can,  through  one  con- 
sistent life-work  of  achievement  or  sacrifice.  But 
who  would  not  welcome  the  opportunity  to  give 
some  urgent,  but  untried,  power  the  chance  of  a 
brief  trial;  or  some  avocation,  made  to  serve  as 
running-mate  to  the  vocation,  its  own  chance  in  the 
running;  or  some  duty,  which  has  been  kept  afar 


THE   NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME     13 

in  some  region  of  the  outer  life,  the  chance  to  come 
near  and  to  feel  for  once  the  warmth  of  the  heart? 
The  period  of  reserved  and  revalued  time  may 
certainly  be  used  to  make  some  amend  for  the 
stringency  of  our  lives  under  the  stress  of  the  or- 
dinary life-work.  Contrast  the  utterances  of  two 
most  gifted  English  authors  whose  last  books  are 
just  now  before  us — Father  Tyrrell  and  William  De 
Morgan.  Father  Tyrrell  writes  to  a  friend,  "I  am 
always  hurried  to  get  things  in  before  death  over- 
takes me,  and  am  restless  while  anything  is  un- 
finished that  I  have  once  begun.  Could  I  feel  secure 
of  a  year  .  .  .  but  I  always  think  that  it  may  be  in 
a  week."  William  De  Morgan  writes  in  the  state- 
ment "To  His  Readers  Only":  "When  to  my  great 
surprise  I  published  four  years  since  a  novel  called 
*  Joseph  Vance,'  a  statement  was  reported  more 
than  once  in  some  journals  that  were  kind  enough 
to  notice  it,  that  its  author  was  seventy  years  of 
age.  Why  this  made  me  feel  like  a  centenarian  I  do 
not  know,  especially  as  it  was  five  years  ahead  of 
the  facts.  .  .  .  But  in  the  course  of  my  attempts  to 
procure  the  reduction  to  which  I  was  entitled,  I 
expressed  a  hope  that  the  said  author  would  live  to 
be  seventy,  and  further  that  he  would  write  four 
or  five  volumes,  as  long  as  his  first,  in  the  interim. 
To  my  thinking,  he  has  been  as  good  (or  as  bad)  as 
his  word,  for  this  present  volume  is  the  fourth  story 


14     THE   NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME 

published  since  then,  and  the  day  of  its  publication 
will  be  the  author's  seventieth  birthday." 

I  do  not  know  that  Father  Tyrrell,  had  he  lived 
on,  and  gained  assured  health,  would  ever  have 
entered  into  the  possible  freedom  of  age.  The 
stringency  under  which  he  worked  may  have  been 
in  his  nature,  or  in  the  nature  of  his  self-appointed 
task.  The  prolific  authorship  of  William  De  Mor- 
gan shows  the  possibilities  which  await  slumbering 
genius,  and  possibly  latent  talent,  when  at  the  ap- 
proach of  age  it  breaks  away  from  the  routine  of 
business,  and  puts  its  newly  acquired  freedom  to 
the  test. 

It  may  be  said  in  the  interest  of  almost  any  ca- 
pable man  that  the  time  will  come  when  a  change  in 
the  subject-matter  of  his  thought,  or  in  the  immedi- 
ate object  of  his  pursuit,  may  be  desirable.  No  one 
can  expect  to  compete  with  two  generations.  If  one 
has  been  a  successful  competitor  with  the  men  of  his 
own  generation,  let  that  suffice.  Not  only  are  the 
general  laws  of  progress  to  be  recognized,  but  also 
the  changing  fashions  in  ways  of  thinking  and  in 
modes  of  action.  Every  generation  has  the  right  to 
make  experiments.  The  period  for  which  any  one 
may  regard  himself,  or  allow  himself  to  be  regarded, 
as  an  authority  in  any  profession,  is  very  brief.  The 
seat  of  authority  in  the  investigating  professions  is 
moving  steadily  backward  from  age.  And  in  the 


THE   NEW   RESERVATION   OF  TIME     15 

more  active  callings,  productive  or  executive,  the 
advisory  relations  of  age  are  growing  more  and  more 
questionable.  "Old  men  for  counsel"  is  becoming 
an  out- worn  motto,  because  young  men  have,  by 
virtue  of  their  training,  become  sufficiently  conserv- 
ative. Facts  like  these  are  to  be  accepted.  The  re- 
linquishment  in  due  season  of  what  may  have  been 
a  rightful  claim  to  authority,  or  the  detachment 
of  one's  self  from  work  which  has  fitly  gone  over 
into  other  hands,  is  a  pretty  sure  indication  that 
the  mind  thus  set  free  is  capable  of  achieving  other 
results  which  may  be  in  themselves  desirable,  and 
of  possible  advantage  to  society. 

Assuming  that  the  intellectual  worker  remains, 
upon  retirement,  in  possession  of  his  mental  powers, 
there  are  at  least  three  inciting  moods  which  may 
lead  him  to  undertake  new  work  —  the  reminiscent, 
the  reflective,  the  creative.  Of  course,  intellectual 
work  reaches  far  beyond  books,  covering  an  increas- 
ingly large  area  of  business  and  affairs.  Men  of  af- 
fairs, when  they  have  withdrawn  from  public  life, 
naturally  become  reminiscent,  not  under  the  des- 
ultory impulses  of  memory,  but  with  a  well-defined 
purpose.  The  reminiscent  mood  may  be  as  con- 
structive as  any  which  can  possess  the  mind.  An 
actor  in  events  extending  over  a  wide  territory,  or 
through  a  long  period,  naturally  wishes  to  relate 
them  to  one  another,  or  at  least  to  show  the  con- 


16     THE   NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME 

sistency  of  his  own  actions  so  far  as  he  may  have 
been  concerned  in  them.  He  would,  if  possible, 
open  a  clear  perspective  into  events  which  are  about 
to  become  the  material  for  history.  He  would  like 
to  have  the  events,  and  the  men,  of  his  generation 
known  and  estimated,  as  he  knew  and  estimated 
them.  Such  a  purpose  as  this  must  be  carried  out 
while  all  the  mental  processes  are  trustworthy  — 
the  mind  free  from  prejudice,  memory  and  imagina- 
tion clear  and  sure,  and  the  judgment  sane.  There 
are  "Reminiscences"  and  "  Autobiographies  "  which 
show  as  much  mental  grasp  as  any  of  the  mental 
activities  which  they  record.  Occasionally  they 
reveal  a  distinct  literary  quality  when  there  has 
been  no  literary  training,  as  was  true  in  so  marked 
a  degree  of  the  "Memoirs"  of  General  Grant. 

The  mind  that  craves  reflection  may  be  the  mind 
which  has  been  driven  at  a  rapid  pace  with  a  view 
to  a  fixed  amount  of  production.  I  should  suppose 
that  the  opportunity  for  the  reflective  mood  would 
begrateful  to  most  teachers,  preachers,  and  editors, 
to  all  persons,  in  fact,  who  have  been  obliged  to 
work  for  occasions,  or  to  meet  some  regularly  re- 
curring demand.  There  are  callings  which  in  them- 
selves train  the  mind  to  quick  and  decisive  judg- 
ments. There  are  other  callings  which  presuppose 
and  emphasize  the  communicating  impulse.  In  any 
of  these  callings  the  individual  has  little  chance  to 


THE   NEW  RESERVATION   OF  TIME     17 

indulge  in  the  reflective  mood.  Probably  it  is  bet- 
ter for  the  public  that  he  should  not  be  able  to  fall 
into  this  indulgence.  Certainly  a  change  to  the 
reflective  habit  of  mind,  as  the  controlling  habit, 
would  be  fatal  to  success  in  the  callings  to  which  I 
have  referred.  But  the  limitations  of  one's  calling 
in  this  regard  may  make  all  the  more  welcome  the 
freedom  to  exercise  unused  powers.  Subjects  un- 
willingly put  by  because  demanding  the  reflective 
treatment,  or  subjects  which  for  this  reason  have 
been  only  partially  considered,  may  be  recalled  and 
considered  according  to  their  proper  demands.  Not 
infrequently,  I  think,  a  rejected  subject  of  this 
sort  will  prove  to  be,  when  recovered,  an  open  door, 
through  which  one  may  pass  into  a  wide  region  of 
new  and  fascinating  thought. 

I  believe  that  I  am  warranted  in  admitting  the 
creative  mood  to  a  place  beside  the  reminiscent 
and  the  reflective,  among  the  later  privileges  of  the 
mind;  not  like  these  a  distinctive  privilege,  but 
still  a  fit  privilege.  Creative  work  is  not  to  be 
measured,  like  the  ordinary  work  of  production, 
by  physical  vitality.  The  creative  process  is  subtle, 
quickened  at  hidden  sources,  and  sensitive  to  out- 
ward suggestion.  As  no  one  can  tell  when  it  may 
end,  so  no  one  can  tell  when  or  how  it  may  begin. 
It  is  in  no  sense  impossible  that  a  certain  proportion 
of  mind,  set  free  from  monotonous  toil,  may,  when 


18     THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME 

it  recovers  its  elasticity,  feel  the  originating  impulse; 
or  that  the  originating  impulse  which  has  been  al- 
lowed free  action  may  be  perpetuated.  Age  does 
not  necessarily  mean  mental  invalidism.  Examples 
to  the  contrary  always  have  been,  and  are,  in  abun- 
dant evidence.  What  we  have  most  to  fear  from  the 
new  allotment  of  time  is,  that  some  who  have 
wrought  all  their  lives  under  various  kinds  of  out- 
ward compulsion  will  allow  the  creative  impulse  to 
lapse  when  the  outward  necessity  for  its  action  is 
past.  But  over  against  this  liability  lies  the  per- 
sistent craving  of  the  mind  for  employment.  I 
doubt  if  many  would  be  willing  to  accept,  for  other 
than  financial  reasons,  any  proposed  system  of  re- 
tirement if  it  were  understood  to  carry  with  it  ces- 
sation from  work. 

As  I  have  before  intimated,  much  of  what  I  am 
saying  in  this  chapter  applies  particularly  to  intel- 
lectual workers.  But  what  I  am  just  now  saying 
applies  equally,  if  not  more,  to  those  who  labor 
with  their  hands.  I  think  that  the  average  work- 
ing man  will  sadly  miss  his  "job,"  who  is  retired, 
in  comparative  health,  from  the  ranks  of  organized 
labor  at  seventy;  and  especially  if  at  sixty,  the  age 
proposed  for  the  retirement  of  railroad  employees. 
The  morning  whistle  will  sound  a  different  note 
when  it  no  longer  calls  him  to  the  day's  work.  I 
anticipate  no  little  difficulty  in  finding  satisfactory 


THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME     19 

employment  for  retired  working  men  of  sound 
health  and  of  industrious  habits.  What  will  the 
trade-unions  say  to  any  relieving  employment 
which  may  be  provided  for  them,  or  which  they 
may  devise?  Where  is  the  "open  shop"  to  which 
they  can  have  access? 

Putting  aside,  however,  the  discussion  of  any  of 
the  "labor  questions"  to  which  the  various  schemes 
of  retirement  may  give  rise,  there  is  one  very  practi- 
cal conclusion  to  be  drawn  from  any  discussion  of 
the  subject  under  consideration.  If  the  reservation 
of  time  which  is  now  being  planned  shall  be  carried 
out  in  any  large  way,  it  must  inevitably  produce  a 
change  in  the  present  aim,  and,  to  a  degree,  in  the 
present  method,  of  education.  We  have  been  at 
work  for  nearly  a  generation  under  the  one  dominat- 
ing idea  of  training  men  for  efficiency,  meaning 
thereby  the  power  to  secure  the  largest  possible 
material  results  within  the  shortest  time.  The 
chief  means  to  efficiency  has  been  specialization. 
We  have  set  the  individual  man  earlier  and  earlier 
upon  the  training  for  his  specified  task,  broadening 
the  immediate  way,  but  closing  divergent  paths. 
We  have  reached  the  desired  result.  We  have 
gained  efficiency  through  specialization.  The  spe- 
cialized man,  presumably  also  a  man  of  will-power, 
has  become  the  type  of  the  efficient  man.  But  the 
argument  for  efficiency  is  the  argument  for  more 


20     THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME 

efficiency.  The  efficient  man  must  constantly  give 
place  to  the  more  efficient  man,  who  in  theory,  and 
usually  in  fact,  has  had  the  more  intense  training. 
What  is  to  happen  to  the  supplanted  man?  When 
he  has  done  the  one  thing  which  he  can  do  to  the 
best  advantage  of  the  business,  what  is  he  to  do 
then?  What  is  to  be  done  with  this  increasing  suc- 
cession of  second-best  men  in  the  industries  and  in 
business?  Retirement,  whatever  may  be  the  pen- 
sion, and  however  early  it  may  take  effect,  does  not 
answer  the  question.  We  have  been  training  men 
for  ends  chiefly  outside  themselves.  We  have  not 
given  them  resources  upon  which  they  can  draw 
when  the  outside  ends  have  been  accomplished. 
As  the  outward  results  are  to  be  credited  chiefly 
to  education,  the  deficiencies  in  personal  results, 
if  any  such  appear,  must  be  charged  to  its  account. 
And  if  these  are  likely  to  appear,  the  remedy  must 
be  anticipated  in  education.  It  would  be  an  un- 
seemly thing  to  allow  the  charitably  intentioned 
retirement  of  men  from  their  work  to  result  in  the 
exposure  of  their  personal  deficiencies. 

The  failure  of  education  to  produce  personal 
results  commensurate  with  outward  results  is 
easily  detected  whenever  it  occurs.  We  have  a 
striking  example  of  this  fact  in  the  present  con- 
trast between  the  successful  training  of  men  in 
the  art  of  making  money,  and  the  unsuccessful 


THE   NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME     21 

training  of  them  in  the  art  of  spending  money — the 
latter  art  being  more  personal  than  the  former. 
When  we  pass  beyond  the  use  of  money  as  capital, 
we  are  confronted  by  a  vast  amount  of  foolish  and 
often  shameless  expenditure.  Much  of  this  expend- 
iture should  be  attributed  to  ignorance  rather 
than  to  viciousness,  to  a  certain  emptiness  of 
mind  in  respect  to  taste  or  satisfying  enjoyment. 
Even  the  capitalist  who  knows  how  to  utilize  money 
for  large  enterprises  is  quite  apt  to  be  deficient 
in  the  finer  art  of  giving.  The  example  of  the  late 
John  Stewart  Kennedy  is  most  refreshing,  in  these 
days  of  delegated  benevolence,  in  showing  how  a 
man  of  great  fortune  can  be  as  capable  of  disposing 
of  it  as  he  was  capable  of  making  it. 

It  is  evident  that  our  present  ideals  and  methods 
must  be  revised  if  we  are  to  meet  the  social  condi- 
tions which  will  come  in  with  the  new  reservation 
of  time.  We  must  call  back  some  of  the  current 
terms  of  modern  education  —  efficiency,  success, 
and  even  service  —  and  reendow  them  with  a  more 
personal  meaning.  We  must  of  course  continue 
to  train  the  efficient,  successful,  and  serviceable 
worker,  but  we  must  also  make  some  sure  intellec- 
tual and  moral  provision  for  the  man  himself  who 
is  expected  to  outlast  the  "practical"  requirements 
of  society.  I  do  not  attempt  to  forecast  the  type  of 
man  who  can  best  fulfill  what  we  are  pleased  to 


22     THE  NEW  RESERVATION  OF  TIME 

term  his  life-work,  and  also  be  qualified  to  enter 
into  the  duties  and  privileges  of  the  period  of  re- 
served and  revalued  time.  Perhaps  the  changed 
order  will  evolve  a  larger  and  more  complete  type. 
It  may  be  enough  for  us  to  recall  and  restore  the 
man  whom 

"Business  could  not  make  dull,  nor  Passion  wild: 
Who  saw  life  steadily,  and  saw  it  whole." 


n 

UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP 

UNDERGRADUATE  scholarship  has  been  for  some 
time,  and  not  without  reason,  the  object  of  special 
criticism  in  educational  discussions.  It  is  a  matter 
of  encouragement  that  criticism  is  beginning  to  ad- 
vance toward  the  more  direct  and  vital  issues 
involved.  Probably  nine  tenths  of  the  critics, 
academic  and  non-academic,  have  attributed  the 
deficiencies  which  they  note  to  athletics,  to  fra- 
ternities, or  to  social  distractions  of  various  sorts; 
in  a  word,  to  the  immediate  environment  of  the 
student.  Such  criticism  is  not  uncalled  for,  but  it 
is  quite  insufficient.  It  makes  the  problem  too  easy. 
No  one,  for  example,  who  deprecates  the  effect  of 
athletics  upon  scholarship  would  be  willing  to  guar- 
antee an  advance  in  scholarship  corresponding  to 
a  decline  in  athletics. 

Due  account  must  be  taken  of  the  reflex  influ- 
ence of  environment  upon  the  student;  but  any 
criticism  of  the  undergraduate  at  so  vital  a  point 
as  scholarship,  if  it  is  to  be  really  remedial,  must 
concern  itself  with  forces  which  are  immediately 
and  constantly  directive,  forces  in  fact  which  are 


24        UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP 

institutional.  Undergraduate  scholarship  is  the 
product  of  the  undergraduate  school,  in  a  broad 
sense  the  exponent  of  its  aim,  whether  the  school 
be  a  department  of  a  university,  or  an  independent 
college.  To  the  degree  in  which  the  ideal  or  type 
of  scholarship  aimed  at,  differs  from  that  set 
forth  by  the  preparatory,  technical,  or  professional 
school,  there  must  be,  as  compared  with  these 
schools,  an  equivalent  adaptation  of  means  to  end. 
At  the  same  time  equal  attention  must  be  given 
to  those  principles  and  methods  in  general  practice 
which  are  found  to  be  most  effective  in  stimulating 
scholarship.  Nowhere  within  the  whole  field  of  ed- 
ucation is  provincialism  so  disastrous  as  in  college 
training. 

Assuming  that  the  responsibility  for  undergradu- 
ate scholarship  rests  with  the  undergraduate  school, 
what  are  the  points  at  which  college  administra- 
tion may  be  brought  to  bear  with  most  effect  for  the 
advancement  of  scholarship? 


A  student  is  admitted  to  college  by  certification 
or  by  examination.  In  either  event,  during  his 
course  of  preparation,  his  instructors  have  had  con- 
tinually in  mind  the  tests  through  which  he  must 
pass  to  enter  upon  further  academic  study.  They 
know  that  they  are  to  be  held  reasonably  respon- 


UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP        25 

sible  for  the  results  of  their  instruction.  The  certi- 
ficate system  is  supposed  to  stand,  and  does  stand, 
in  increasing  degree,  for  guaranteed  fitness  on  the 
part  of  the  student  certified.  By  the  restriction  of 
the  privilege  of  certification  to  schools  amply  quali- 
fied to  fit  for  college,  and  by  the  further  restriction 
of  the  privilege,  by  the  schools  themselves,  to 
students  of  high  grade,  a  college  is  reasonably  as- 
sured that  authorized  instructors  have  taken  a 
proper  responsibility  for  the  training  of  the  incom- 
ing student.  The  examination  system  throws  a 
greater  responsibility  upon  the  college,  but  it  in 
no  way  lessens  the  feeling  on  the  part  of  the  pre- 
paratory teacher  that  he  is  held  to  definite  re- 
sults from  his  teaching.  Whichever  the  way  by 
which  the  student  is  delivered  to  the  college,  he 
comes  out  of  the  hands  of  instructors  who  have 
accepted  certain  well-defined  responsibilities  for 
results. 

Four  years  later  the  same  student,  if  he  enters 
a  professional  school,  finds  himself  at  work  under 
like  conditions.  At  the  end  of  his  course  he  must 
pass  given  tests,  imposed  from  without  —  by 
medical  boards,  by  bar  associations,  by  ecclesias- 
tical councils,  in  the  case  of  medicine  and  law  the 
State  virtually  determining  the  tests.  Instructors 
in  these  schools  know  that  their  work  is  to  be  tested. 
The  student  in  the  graduate  school  (so  called),  at 


26        UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP 

work  for  the  doctor's  degree,  carries  on  his  inves- 
tigations independently,  and  yet  in  a  kind  of  com- 
radeship with  his  instructors. 

The  work  of  college  instructors  is  not  subjected 
to  any  tests,  except  to  those  which  are  self-im- 
posed. The  diploma  of  a  reputable  college  will  ad- 
mit to  any  professional  school,  unless  there  is  some 
specific  requirement  for  admission  called  for;  but 
a  college  diploma  represents  the  minimum  of  attain- 
ment which  a  given  faculty  judges  to  be  necessary 
for  graduation.  It  is  not  a  certification  of  the  special 
fitness  of  the  student  who  holds  it  to  proceed  with 
academic  study.  The  majority  of  college  graduates 
do  not  carry  their  studies  beyond  graduation.  This 
exemption  of  college  instruction  from  tests  out- 
side the  instructing  body,  such  as  are  applied  else- 
where, has  not  always  obtained  in  this  country.  In 
the  days  of  oral  examinations,  boards  of  examiners 
were  appointed  by  trustees,  to  pass  upon  the  stand- 
ing of  students.  The  work  of  these  boards,  at  the 
beginning  at  least,  was  not  perfunctory.  The  rating 
of  students  was  largely  determined  by  these  ex- 
aminers, and  the  relative  proficiency  of  instructors, 
as  well  as  of  students,  was  freely  discussed  in  the 
reports  which  they  submitted  to  trustees.  With  the 
necessary  change  from  the  oral  to  the  written  exam- 
ination, and  for  the  reasons  attending  the  change, 
the  principles  fell  into  disuse.  Trustees  put  the 


UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP        27 

examination  of  students,  as  well  as  their  instruc- 
tion, into  the  hands  of  faculties. 

Where  the  principle  of  separating  examination 
from  instruction  survives,  as  in  the  English  col- 
leges, it  is  generally  conceded  that  the  separation  is 
to  the  advantage  of  scholarship.  On  the  one  hand, 
the  instructor  is  relieved  altogether  of  the  imputa- 
tion of  being  a  taskmaster,  and  becomes  the  intel- 
lectual helper  and  friend  of  the  student  in  the  ac- 
complishment of  a  common  task.  And  on  the  other 
hand,  the  substitution  of  an  outside  standard  for 
one  of  his  own  making  is  a  stimulus  to  the  instructor, 
so  far  as  his  work  with  and  upon  the  student  is  con- 
cerned with  definite  results.  This  phase  of  scholas- 
tic life  in  the  English  colleges  is  brought  out  at  first 
hand  very  clearly  in  an  article  by  Assistant  Pro- 
fessor Reed,  of  Yale,  entitled  "Yale  from  an  Ox- 
ford Standpoint,"  in  the  "Yale  Alumni  Weekly" 
for  October  7,  1910;  and  also  in  the  editorial  com- 
ment upon  this  article  in  the  "Harvard  Alumni 
Bulletin,"  under  date  of  November  2. 

Unfortunately,  there  has  come  of  late  into  our 
American  colleges  a  method  of  separating  examina- 
tion from  instruction  wThich  is  antagonistic  to  the 
original  principle,  and  in  every  way  deleterious  to 
scholarship.  As  this  method  was  in  use  while  I  was 
engaged  in  college  work,  and  as  I  was  "  consenting 
to  it"  under  the  exigencies  of  administration,  I  feel 


28        UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP 

justified  in  condemning  it,  as  in  so  doing  I  condemn 
myself  for  the  official  support  which.  I  then  gave  it. 
The  instructor  is  allowed,  and  in  most  cases  pro- 
vision is  made  in  accordance  with  the  allowance, 
to  turn  over  minor  examinations,  and  not  infre- 
quently a  large  part  of  the  major  examinations,  to 
subordinates  who  have  had  no  place  in  instruction. 
The  equal,  if  not  superior,  work  of  examination  is 
committed  to  the  inferior  person.  The  examiner, 
known  as  the  reader,  may  have  scarcely  more  at- 
tainment in  the  subject  than  the  better  student. 
What  incentive  has  such  a  student  to  do  his  best 
in  an  examination-paper  which  never  comes  under 
the  eye  of  a  really  competent  examiner?  As  a  re- 
lief to  an  overworked  professor,  or  to  an  overbur- 
dened treasury,  the  method  speaks  for  itself;  but  it 
also  speaks  for  itself  as  a  method  to  degrade  the 
examination  system,  to  make  instruction  more 
impersonal,  and  to  remove  one  of  the  chief  incen- 
tives to  the  highest  scholarship.  The  results  of 
scholarship,  when  it  really  becomes  scholarship, 
require  delicate  handling.  The  student  of  good 
intention  and  hard  work,  who  can  never  be  classed 
among  scholars,  is  no  less  entitled  to  the  most  dis- 
criminating and  therefore  stimulating  treatment. 

It  is  also  to  be  considered  that  the  dignity,  as  well 
as  the  validity,  of  an  examination  depends  upon  the 
safeguards  which  are  thrown  around  it.  But  proc- 


UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP        29 

toring  is  irksome,  if  not  repugnant,  to  many  mem- 
bers of  a  faculty.  Consequently  there  is  so  much 
difference  in  the  personal  conduct  of  examinations 
as  to  affect  at  times  the  value  of  the  result:  and, 
what  is  of  more  account,  the  indifference  or  inef- 
ficiency of  reluctant  proctors  lowers  the  general 
value  and  significance  of  the  test. 

I  have  been  for  a  long  time  convinced  that 
the  greatest  possible  advance  within  the  technical 
process  of  scholarship  must  be  sought  in  a  thorough 
reconstruction  of  the  whole  system  of  college  exami- 
nations, affecting  at  least  all  the  major  examina- 
tions, giving  as  a  result  a  system  which  should  test 
the  instructor  as  well  as  the  student  and  serve 
as  a  stimulus  to  each.  Such  a  system,  necessitating 
a  board  of  examiners,  would  add  materially  to  the 
cost  of  instruction,  but  I  believe  that  it  would  be 
found  to  be  fully  rewarding. 

ii 

The  arrangement  of  the  curriculum  of  the  un- 
dergraduate school  has  a  direct  bearing  upon  the 
character  of  undergraduate  scholarship.  In  gen- 
eral, it  may  be  said  that  whereas  the  curriculum 
of  the  preparatory  school  is  to  a  degree  intensive 
and  cumulative,  and  that  of  the  professional  school 
altogether  intensive  and  cumulative,  the  curricu- 
lum of  the  undergraduate  school  is  extensive  and 


SO        UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP 

discursive.  Some  of  the  subjects  which  make  up 
the  curriculum  are  brought  over  from  the  prepar- 
atory school  for  advanced  treatment.  Whether 
specifically  required  or  not,  the  further  study  of 
them  is  requisite  as  a  condition  to  the  choice  of  dis- 
tinctively college  subjects.  The  increasing  variety 
of  subject-matter  consists  in  part  in  the  introduc- 
tion of  new  subjects,  but  more  in  the  constant 
division  and  subdivision  of  subjects  old  and  new. 

In  considering  the  effect  of  this  confusing  or 
tempting  variety  of  subject-matter  upon  scholar- 
ship, account  is  to  be  taken  chiefly  of  its  effect 
upon  those  who  have  the  aptitudes  and  desires  of 
the  scholar.  The  omnivorous  scholar  still  exists. 
Every  new  subject  whets  his  appetite.  Practically 
all  subjects  are  of  equal  interest  to  him.  The  scholar 
still  exists  who  likes  to  play  the  game,  even  though 
competition  has  pretty  much  died  out.  He  is  not 
so  much  interested  in  the  thing  to  be  done,  as  in  the 
way  of  doing  it.  If  anything  is  to  be  done  it  can  be 
done  in  one  way  only,  and  that  the  best  way  — 
this  compulsion  being  with  him  quite  as  much  a 
matter  of  taste  as  of  conscience.  Such  scholars  as 
these  are  not  types:  they  are  simply  individuals. 

Undergraduate  scholars  are  for  the  most  part  of 
three  types :  the  born  specialist,  taking  everything 
within  reach  bearing  upon  his  specialty,  taking 
anything  else  only  by  compulsion;  the  student  who 


UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP        31 

works  under  the  lure  of  the  practical  end,  keeping 
as  close  as  possible  to  the  vocational  subject;  and 
the  man  who  wishes  to  make  himself  familiar  with 
the  widest  range  of  subjects  practicable.  It  is  evi- 
dent that  no  one  of  these  types  can  represent  the 
highest  degree  of  conventional  scholarship.  The 
undergraduate  specialist  is  pulled  down  by  the 
necessary,  but  undesired  subjects;  the  practical 
student  cannot  make  his  whole  course,  or  indeed 
any  large  part  of  it,  vocational ;  and  the  man-of-the- 
world  in  college  does  not  aim  so  much  at  supreme 
excellence  as  at  ready  attainments. 

What  is  the  effect  of  the  college  curriculum 
upon  the  scholarship  of  the  average  student?  It 
cannot  be  said  that  it  is  a  stimulus  to  competi- 
tive scholarship.  Competition  presupposes  a  com- 
mon and  restricted  field  of  endeavor.  Men  do  not 
compete  in  scholarship,  more  than  in  other  things, 
for  general  excellence.  The  curriculum  lacks  the 
essential  stimulus  of  concentrated  and  protracted 
interest.  It  tends  rather  to  discursiveness,  to  a 
certain  amount  of  experimentation,  and  to  a  con- 
clusion of  effort  in  secondary  results. 

It  was  assumed,  and  with  good  reason,  that  the 
elective  system  would  prove  to  be  a  stimulus  by 
individualizing  scholarship:  that  somewhere  within 
the  range  of  personal  choice  the  subject  would 
"find"  the  man.  I  think  that  it  has  in  many  cases 


32        UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP 

justified  this  assumption.  I  have  in  mind  not  a  few 
brilliant  illustrations  of  its  finding-power.  But  in 
fulfilling  this  purpose  it  necessarily  allows  much 
experimenting.  As  a  result  the  majority,  unaided 
(and  too  much  aid  is  inconsistent  with  the  prin- 
ciple), never  get  beyond  the  stage  of  self-experi- 
menting. They  keep,  that  is  to  say,  too  closely 
within  the  range  of  elementary  courses;  and  when 
they  are  through  college  they  can  look  back  only 
upon  a  series  of  unfinished  jobs. 

Certain  correctives,  like  the  group  system,  the 
system  of  majors  and  minors,  and,  best  of  all,  the 
requirement  making  proficiency  in  some  advanced 
courses  essential  to  graduation,  have  been  intro- 
duced with  good  effect;  but  still  comparatively  few 
students  reach  the  satisfaction,  the  courage,  the 
joy,  of  any  great  accomplishment.  It  is  something, 
sometimes  it  is  very  much,  to  have  gained  a  certain 
facility  in  foreign  languages,  to  have  found  out  some 
of  the  methods  of  scientific  research,  to  have  be- 
come familiar  with  some  of  the  problems  of  phi- 
losophy and  of  the  social  sciences,  but  these  results 
cannot  be  very  well  expressed  in  the  terms  of  exact 
scholarship.  The  construction  of  a  curriculum 
which  shall  be  a  surer  guide  and  a  more  effective 
stimulus  to  scholarship  is  one  of  the  inner  prob- 
lems of  college  administration  which  is  yet  to  be 
solved,  if  scholarship  of  the  intensive  and  cumula- 


UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP        33 

tive  type  is  expected  of  the  colleges.  At  present, 
the  curriculum  is  set  toward  breadth  rather  than 
toward  intensity,  toward  quantity  rather  than  to- 
ward quality. 

in 

A  much  more  serious  difficulty,  in  its  effect  upon 
undergraduate  scholarship,  than  either  of  the  fore- 
going, is  the  difficulty  of  making  right  adjustment 
between  the  mind  of  the  instructor  and  the  mind 
of  the  student.  In  the  other  higher  departments  of 
the  educational  system  this  adjustment  is  more 
nearly  complete.  The  sympathetic  relation  between 
a  preparatory-school  teacher  and  his  students  is 
usually  very  close.  The  most  effective  teachers  in 
this  department,  the  most  effective  because  the 
most  influential  and  stimulating,  are  what  Phillips 
Brooks  used  to  call  "boys'  men."  In  the  technical 
and  professional  schools  the  mental  adjustment  of 
instructor  to  student  is  almost  complete,  largely 
because  the  specific  intellectual  interests  are  iden- 
tical. The  medical  student  is  as  eager  to  under- 
stand, as  the  instructor  is  eager  to  explain,  the 
last  discovery  in  medical  science.  So  far  as  intel- 
lectual interest  is  concerned,  the  gap  between  the 
immature  and  the  mature  mind  closes  rapidly  when 
the  professional  stage  is  reached. 

Probably  there  are  no  two  states  of  mind  within 


34       UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP 

any  educational  group  of  persons  more  remote  from 
one  another  than  the  state  of  mind  of  the  average 
boy  entering  college,  and  the  state  of  mind  of  the 
doctor  of  philosophy  just  leaving  the  graduate 
school  to  enter  upon  college  instruction.  These,  of 
course,  are  the  extremes  in  the  college  group,  yet 
they  meet  there  and  have  to  be  adjusted.  The  solu- 
tion of  the  difficulty  does  not  lie  in  any  lessening  of 
the  intellectual  authority  of  the  instructor.  College 
students  take  very  little  account  of  instructors  who 
do  not  know  their  subject,  who  have  to  draw  too 
hard  upon  their  reserves  in  teaching.  But  contact 
between  instructor  and  student  comes  about  only 
through  the  mutual  widening  of  their  intellectual 
sympathies,  and  here  the  greater  obligation  rests 
upon  the  instructor.  That  is,  at  least,  the  practical 
part  of  his  business. 

The  separating  effect  of  specialized  study  can- 
not be  overlooked.  It  is  manifest  in  the  intellectual 
life  of  any  faculty.  The  tendency  of  personal  in- 
terest is  more  and  more  from  the  general  to  the 
specific.  A  language  club  tends  to  break  up  into 
several  groups,  or  a  scientific  club,  or  any  other 
club,  which  starts  with  wide  affiliations.  Any  gen- 
eral club,  to  be  successful,  must  be  altogether  social 
in  its  aims.  It  is  doubtful  if  many  members  of  a 
faculty  take  much  interest  in  those  parts  of  the 
curriculum  which  are  unrelated  to  their  own,  but 


UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP        35 

which  make  an  equal  claim  upon  the  interest  of  the 
student.  Probably  the  relative  number  of  Phi  Beta 
Kappa  men  among  college  instructors  is  less  than 
formerly,  not  because  the  men  are  less  intellectual, 
but  because  they  are  more  specialized,  caring  more 
for  the  training  of  the  graduate  than  of  the  under- 
graduate school. 

Meanwhile  the  undergraduate  is  in  the  dilemma 
of  working  under  a  curriculum  which  is  growing 
more  extensive  (through  the  constant  division  and 
subdivision  of  subject-matter),  and  under  instruc- 
tors who  are  growing  more  specialized  in  their  intel- 
lectual interests.  The  curriculum  bears  the  stamp 
of  the  college,  the  faculty  bears  the  stamp  of  the  uni- 
versity, many  of  them  being  on  their  way  to  univer- 
sity teaching,  or  having  that  before  them  as  the 
goal  of  their  ambition.  Which  stamp  shall  be  put 
upon  the  student?  Which  type  of  scholarship  shall  he 
express,  so  far  as  he  becomes  distinctively  a  scholar? 
Or,  if  it  be  insisted  that  the  inconsistency  is  not 
so  great  as  it  appears  to  be,  how  shall  the  spirit  of 
scholarship  be  kindled  and  developed  under  these 
general  conditions?  When  the  question  is  thus 
simplified,  it  is  quickly  answered  —  the  instructor 
must  take  the  initiative.  The  student  is  the  objec- 
tive of  the  instructor,  not  the  instructor  of  the  stu- 
dent. The  immediate  objective  of  the  student  is 
the  subject  before  him.  If  the  instructor,  who  is, 


36        UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP 

as  he  ought  to  be,  an  investigator,  is  to  be  a  quicken- 
ing force  among  undergraduate  students,  he  must 
see  to  it  that  his  intellectual  sympathies  widen  as 
his  intellectual  interest  intensifies.  A  recognized 
authority  he  must  be  at  any  cost,  but  this  will  not 
avail  without  some  equivalent  power  of  contact. 
The  early  years  of  college  instruction  ought  to  be 
recognized  and  accepted  by  the  instructor  as 
years  of  institutional  training.  Before  he  can  ex- 
pect to  become  a  successful  college  teacher  he  must 
be  conscious  of  having  become  imbued  with  college 
sympathies  and  with  college  ideals. 

The  questions  which  have  been  under  considera- 
tion, suggested  by  the  present  state  of  undergrad- 
uate scholarship,  are  all  inner  questions,  institu- 
tional, as  being  in  and  of  the  undergraduate  school 
itself.  Reversing  the  order  of  inquiry:  How  shall 
the  right  adjustment  be  affected  between  the  mind 
of  the  instructor  and  the  mind  of  the  student? 
Which  shall  determine  the  type  of  scholarship  in 
the  undergraduate,  the  curriculum,  or  the  intellec- 
tual interests  of  the  instructor?  Who  shall  examine 
the  undergraduate?  Shall  examination  be  included 
in  instruction,  or  shall  instructor  and  student  work 
together  under  the  common  stimulus  of  an  outside 
test?  These  are  questions  which  have  an  imme- 
diate bearing  upon  the  scholarship  of  the  under- 
graduate. On  the  one  hand,  the  answer  to  them 


UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP        37 

may  relieve  his  mind  of  confusion  as  to  the  type  of 
scholarship  demanded  of  him.  And  on  the  other 
hand,  the  answer  may  determine  more  clearly  the 
relation  in  which  he  stands  to  his  instructor,  and  to 
his  examiner,  whether  these  be  one  and  the  same 
or  different  persons.  Other  questions  of  like  char- 
acter are  coming  under  discussion.  The  suggestive 
and  encouraging  fact  is,  as  has  been  already  inti- 
mated, that  the  college  mind  is  becoming  introspec- 
tive. The  turn  of  thought  is  that  way.  It  is  no 
longer  satisfied  with  excuses,  or  explanations,  or 
criticisms,  which  have  to  do  chiefly  with  the  en- 
vironment of  the  undergraduate. 

Neither  is  it  content  to  abide  in  the  gains  which 
have  defined  the  progress  of  the  colleges  during  the 
past  thirty  years.  From  the  strictly  educational 
point  of  view,  the  great  gain  of  this  period  has  con- 
sisted in  the  introduction  of  the  new  and  vast  sub- 
ject-matter of  the  sciences,  physical  and  social,  into 
the  curriculum;  in  the  reconciliation  of  this  sub- 
ject-matter with  that  already  in  place;  and  in  the 
provision  made  for  the  adequate  treatment  of  the 
new  and  the  old,  by  methods  equally  essential  to 
both.  In  the  order  of  progress  it  was  clear  that  the 
next  gain  must  come  from  the  utilization  of  the  new 
material  and  the  new  methods  in  the  advancement 
of  scholarship.  By  a  happy  coincidence,  in  the  case 
of  several  of  the  New  England  colleges,  the  oppor- 


38        UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP 

tunity  for  this  specific  result  in  college  development 
comes  at  the  same  time  with  changes  in  adminis- 
tration. A  group  of  relatively  young  men,  of  simi- 
lar training,  with  like  general  views  and  purposes, 
and  all  imbued  with  the  high  spirit  of  modern 
scholarship,  have  entered  upon  their  several  tasks 
with  a  fine  community  of  interest,  and  a  clear  def- 
initeness  of  aim.  Much  in  every  way  is  to  be  ex- 
pected from  their  individual  and  united  action, 
much  especially  because  their  approach  to  their 
task  has  been  singularly  positive  and  direct  in  the 
endeavor  to  reach  the  springs  of  scholarship.  Unlike 
many  of  the  critics,  they  do  not  appear  to  be  over- 
much concerned  with  questions  of  mere  environ- 
ment, while  closer  and  more  determining  questions 
lie  unsolved. 

IV 

But  what  of  the  environment  of  the  undergradu- 
ate as  affecting  his  scholarship?  Because  it  is  not, 
as  commonly  interpreted,  the  determining  influ- 
ence, it  does  not  follow  that  it  is  not  a  potent  influ- 
ence. There  is  a  very  definite,  though  very  subtle, 
danger  to  scholarship  in  the  environment  of  the 
undergraduate.  It  is  important  that  no  mistakes 
be  made  in  the  attempt  to  locate  it.  When  a  stu- 
dent enters  college  he  goes  into  residence  for  four 
years  in  a  somewhat  detached  community.  This 


UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP        39 

fact  of  protracted  residence  has  gradually  created 
an  environment  unlike  anything  which  has  pre- 
ceded in  the  experience  of  the  undergraduate,  ex- 
cept as  he  may  have  come  from  a  private  school 
of  long  history;  and  unlike  anything  which  will 
probably  follow.  The  average  professional  student 
can  hardly  be  said  to  be  in  residence.  He  may  live 
anywhere;  and,  for  that  matter,  anyhow.  Careful 
provision  has  been  made  for  the  undergraduate  in 
all  that  goes  to  make  up  his  life  in  residence.  Col- 
lege halls  are  halls  of  learning;  they  are  equally  the 
homes  of  men.  This  man  lived  or  lives  here,  that 
man  there.  This  life  in  residence,  as  it  goes  on  from 
generation  to  generation,  evolves  its  own  environ- 
ment of  traditions,  of  associations  and  fellowships, 
of  collective  or  organized  activities,  and,  most 
subtle  and  powerful  of  all  influences,  of  sentiment 
—  college  sentiment. 

The  ordinary  effect  of  traditions  is  easily  over- 
estimated. In  emergencies,  or  on  occasions,  the 
great  traditions  come  out  in  commanding  force. 
But  the  traditions  which  affect  the  daily  life 
are  quite  ephemeral.  Many  of  them  disappear 
as  quickly  as  they  are  formed.  A  graduate  of 
ten  years  is  surprised  to  find,  on  his  return,  that 
most  of  the  traditions  of  his  time  have  been 
supplanted.  Few  customs,  good  or  bad,  persist 
under  the  force  of  tradition;  and  of  those  which 


40        UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP 

do   persist,  few  have   any  direct  bearing  upon 
scholarship. 

The  social  life  of  the  undergraduate  seems  com- 
plex and  distracting,  but  the  complexity  and  dis- 
traction are  more  in  appearance  than  in  reality.  For 
one  thing,  the  undergraduate  has  no  social  duties. 
A  few  functions  like  "Junior  Prom."  are  exacting. 
These  are  in  contrast  with  the  ordinary  conven- 
tions. There  is,  however,  the  constant  opportunity 
to  waste  time  agreeably.  The  temptation  to  loaf  is 
always  at  hand,  but  so  is  the  remedy  —  increase  the 
requirement  of  work.  As  to  fraternities  and  clubs, 
it  is  probable  that  men  who  belong  to  them  rank 
in  scholarship  below  those  who  do  not,  but  it  is  an 
open  question  whether  the  lower  rank  is  due  to 
the  fraternity  or  to  the  man.  The  unsocial  man  has 
the  advantage  over  the  social  man  in  respect  to  the 
use  of  time.  It  is  doubtful  if  this  advantage  is  a 
sufficient  compensation  for  real  social  losses.  The 
college  fraternity  has  the  same  reason  in  human 
nature  as  the  club  in  the  town-community.  A  lone- 
some mind  is  not  the  only  mind  fitted  for  study. 
Companionship  is  a  proper  setting  for  intellectual 
effort.  For  this  reason  it  is  doubtful  if  social  inti- 
macy between  the  members  of  a  faculty  and  younger 
undergraduates  can  be  real  enough  to  be  very  help- 
ful. Among  mature  undergraduates  there  is  a 
sufficient  social  basis  for  any  direct  intellectual 


UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP        41 

stimulus  from  those  of  a  faculty  who  are  inclined 
and  qualified  to  make  use  of  it. 

It  is  only  as  we  enter  the  field  of  the  organized 
activities  of  undergraduate  life  that  we  find  any- 
thing which  comes  into  competition  with  scholar- 
ship. All  else  is  merely  diverting:  athletics  alone 
are  competitive.  Why  are  academic  athletics  com- 
petitive with  scholarship?  Because  they  represent 
attainment,  an  attainment  representing  many  of 
the  qualities,  and  much  of  the  discipline,  which 
scholarship  requires.  At  present,  football  is  the 
only  game  which  rises  to  the  dignity  of  competition, 
largely  because  of  its  intellectual  demands.  It  is  a 
game  of  strategy  quite  as  much  as  of  force.  The 
recent  uncovering  of  the  game  makes  this  fact  more 
evident.  Baseball  has  become,  for  the  most  part, 
a  recreation,  and  training  for  track  events  is  an  in- 
dividual discipline. 

An  attitude  of  jealousy  on  the  part  of  a  faculty 
toward  athletics,  viewed  as  competitive  with  schol- 
arship, is  essentially  a  weak  attitude.  Athletics, 
rising  to  the  standard  of  attainment,  and  therefore 
of  interest  to  a  college  at  large,  ought  to  be  treated 
with  the  respect  implied  in  steady  regulation  and 
control;  or  they  ought  to  be  abolished,  that  is, 
reduced  to  a  recreation.  Can  the  colleges  afford 
to  reduce  athletics  to  a  recreation?  Would  this 
course  be  in  the  interest  of  scholarship?  What 


42        UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP 

would  take  their  place  in  supplying  virility,  physi- 
cal discipline,  and  the  preventive  moral  influence 
which  they  exert?  What  substitute  would  be  in- 
troduced for  protection  against  the  soft  vices? 
Any  alternative  to  athletics  is  to  be  feared.  I  be- 
lieve that  the  virile  sports  must  keep  their  place 
among  us,  lest  there  become  "dear  to  us,"  as  to  the 
Phseacians  of  the  Odyssey,  "the  banquet,  and  the 
harp,  and  the  dance,  and  changes  of  raiment,  and 
the  warm  bath,  and  love,  and  sleep." 

Academic  athletics  have  their  drawbacks :  there 
are  personal  liabilities  from  overtraining  as  from 
overstudy,  there  are  tendencies  to  professionalism 
which  must  be  carefully  watched,  there  are  rival- 
ries which  may  become  ungenerous,  and  which 
ought  to  be  suspended,  and  the  spirit  of  commer- 
cialism whenever  it  appears  must  be  literally 
stamped  out;  but,  fundamentally,  athletics  are  a 
protection  to  vigorous  and  healthy  scholarship  far 
more  than  a  detriment  to  it,  as  I  believe  would 
appear  in  no  long  time,  if  recreation  were  offered 
as  a  substitute  for  athletics.  From  the  days  of 
the  Greeks  till  now,  athletics  have  had  a  legitimate 
place  in  academic  life. 


Wherein,  then,  lies  the  danger  to  scholarship 
from  the  environment  of  the  undergraduate?     I 


UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP        43 

reply  at  once,  in  college  sentiment  —  the  most 
subtle,  constant,  and  powerful  influence  which 
comes  upon  the  undergraduate  out  of  his  environ- 
ment. College  sentiment  is  at  present  negative 
toward  scholarship.  By  contrast,  it  is  positive 
toward  one  form  of  athletics.  But,  as  has  been 
argued,  if  the  athlete  were  removed,  it  does  not 
follow  that  college  sentiment  would  become  posi- 
tive toward  the  scholar.  We  must  look  deeper  for 
the  reason  of  the  lack  of  undergraduate  enthusiasm 
for  scholarship. 

Any  analysis  of  college  sentiment  will  show,  I 
think,  two  facts  bearing  directly  upon  the  question. 
First,  the  undergraduate  has  learned  to  dissociate 
scholarship  from  leadership.  Has  learned,  I  say, 
for  this  is  the  result  of  his  own  observation  within 
his  own  world.  It  is  difficult  to  show  an  undergrad- 
uate that  he  is  mistaken  in  his  observation,  for 
leadership  is  an  unmistakable  influence.  Men  feel 
it,  and  can  tell  from  whence  it  emanates.  The  opin- 
ions and  practices  of  the  leading  men  in  college 
virtually  determine  college  sentiment.  Leadership 
grows  out  of  the  combination  of  personality  and 
attainment.  The  proportion  of  personality  to  at- 
tainment varies  greatly,  but  neither  one  is  sufficient 
of  itself  to  make  a  leader.  The  loafer  cannot  be- 
come a  leader,  however  agreeable  he  may  be  per- 
sonally. The  athlete  cannot  become  a  leader,  if  he 


44       UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP 

is  not  essentially  a  gentleman,  with  some  recog- 
nizable intellectual  force.    When  the  scholar  fails 
to  reach  leadership,  the  lack  is  somewhere  in  those 
qualities  which  make  up  effective  personality  - 
authority,  virility,  sympathy,  sincerity,  manners. 

Probably  the  majority  of  real  college  leaders 
are  to  be  found  in  the  second  grade  of  scholarship, 
adding  a  few  athletes,  who  would  be  in  that  grade 
except  for  the  exacting  requirements  of  athletics 
at  some  one  season  of  the  year.  These  men  have 
personality  and  attainment,  but  not  attainment 
enough  to  make  them  influential  scholars.  If  with 
one  accord,  and  with  generous  enthusiasm,  these 
men  would  add  twenty  per  cent  to  their  scholastic 
attainment,  they  would  in  due  time  convert  the 
undergraduate  to  the  idea  of  scholarship.  This  act 
on  their  part  would  require  concentration  of  pur- 
pose, where  now  their  energies  are  directed  toward 
various  kinds  of  attainment  and  accomplishment. 

It  would  not  be  a  difficult  thing  to  effect  this 
result  were  it  not  for  the  second  fact  which  must 
be  considered  in  this  connection,  namely,  the  fact 
that  undergraduate  sentiment  regarding  scholar- 
ship is  the  reflection,  in  large  degree,  of  the  senti- 
ment of  the  outside  world  regarding  it.  Although 
it  is  true,  as  has  been  said,  that  the  undergraduate 
lives  in  a  somewhat  detached  community,  still 
that  community  is  very  vitally  and  sensitively  re- 


UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP        45 

lated  to  the  world  without,  of  which  it  is  consciously 
a  part.  In  this  world  into  which  the  graduate  passes, 
the  scholar  as  such,  with  one  exception  which  will 
be  noted,  has  little  public  recognition  and  less  pub- 
lic reward.  In  Germany  the  scholar  is  sure  of  rep- 
utation, if  not  of  more  tangible  reward.  This  at 
least  is  the  present  fact.  Whether  the  scholarship 
of  the  nation,  which  was  developed  during  the 
period  of  its  isolation,  will  maintain  its  relative 
place  as  the  nation  adjusts  itself  to  the  rising  com- 
mercial instinct,  and  takes  the  political  fortune  of 
a  world-power,  is  yet  to  be  seen.  In  England,  the 
leaders  of  the  nation  are  picked  from  the  honor  men 
of  the  universities.  It  is  not  necessary  that  they 
make  connection  with  the  public  service  through 
related  subjects  of  study.  It  is  enough  that  they 
prove  themselves  to  be  men  of  power  by  the  ordi- 
nary tests  of  scholarship.  In  this  country  there  is 
no  sure  and  wide  connection  between  scholarship 
and  reputation,  or  between  scholarship  and  the 
highest  forms  of  public  service.  The  graduate,  as  he 
takes  his  place  in  the  outer  world,  must  pass  the 
tests  which  are  applied  to  personality  quite  as 
rigidly  as  to  attainment.  In  Germany,  the  personal 
element  is  of  secondary  account.  In  England,  care 
is  taken  in  advance  to  see  that  it  meets  public  re- 
quirements, so  far  at  least  as  it  can  be  secured  by 
good  breeding.  Among  us,  the  scholar  of  insufficient 


46        UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP 

or  of  untrained  personality  takes  his  chance  in  the 
world,  and  usually  at  his  cost. 

An  exception,  a  marked  exception  to  the  unre- 
sponsiveness  of  the  public  mind  to  scholarship,  ap- 
pears in  the  recognition  and  appreciation  of  scien- 
tific research  leading  to  utility.  The  president  of  a 
university  has  recently  proposed  to  concentrate 
the  work  of  his  university,  through  a  great  endow- 
ment, upon  scientific  research  as  the  only  reward- 
ing business  of  a  university.  This  would  mean,  as 
he  frankly  admits,  the  elimination  of  students  to 
whom  the  scientific  stimulus  could  not  be  applied. 
This  proposal  suggests  the  changing,  if  not  the  less- 
ening, area  of  contact  between  academic  scholar- 
ship and  the  outer  world.  Science  has  done  much, 
very  much,  to  quicken  and  enlarge  the  intellectual 
life;  but  it  has  not  as  yet  created  a  widespread  cul- 
ture of  its  own.  Meanwhile,  through  the  interest 
which  it  has  aroused  in  its  practical  application, 
and  in  the  expectation  which  it  is  awakening  of 
yet  greater  practical  results,  it  has  in  a  measure 
disconnected  the  mind  of  the  world  from  the  in- 
tellectual wealth  of  the  past.  Interest  in  the  past 
has  become  of  the  same  general  kind  with  interest 
in  the  present  and  future:  that  is,  scientific.  The 
sympathetic  attitude  toward  the  higher  experiences 
of  mankind,  resulting  in  a  familiarity  with  the  best 
things  which  men  have  said  and  done,  has  given 


UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP        47 

place  to  the  inquiring  and  investigating  attitude. 
The  humanities  have  not  been  discarded,  but  they 
have  been  discredited  to  the  extent  that  no  expres- 
sion of  human  thought,  outside  the  realm  of  poetry, 
is  any  longer  taken  at  its  face  value.  It  is  not  too 
much  to  say  that  the  current  intellectual  life  is  in 
a  state  of  confusion,  which  makes  it  incapable  of 
reacting  in  any  very  stimulating  way  upon  that 
intellectual  life  in  the  colleges  which  is  in  the  form- 
ative and  developing  stage.  The  intellectual  life 
of  the  undergraduate  cannot  be  considered  apart 
from  the  intellectual  life  out  of  which  he  comes, 
and  to  which  he  returns. 

There  is  a  certain  apologetic  attitude  in  this 
country  toward  intellectual  achievement,  of  which 
we  are  hardly  conscious,  but  which  is  manifest  in 
our  desire  to  associate  intellectual  power  with  some 
conspicuously  worthy  end  —  an  attitude  of  which 
the  "  Nation  "  has  fitly  reminded  us  in  a  recent  edi- 
torial on  "Intellect  and  Service."  Acknowledging 
its  full  "admiration  of  the  man  who  makes  his 
scholarship  an  instrument  of  service,"  the  editorial 
proceeds:  "We  do  not  object  to  praise  of  the 
scholar  in  politics,  or  of  the  scholar  in  social  better- 
ment or  in  economic  reform ;  we  object  only  to  the 
preaching  of  a  gospel  which  leaves  all  other  scholars 
out  in  the  cold.  If,  on  the  one  hand,  you  offer  all 
the  shining  outward  rewards  of  effort  to  those  who 


48       UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP 

do  not  go  into  intellectual  pursuit  at  all,  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  you  reserve  all  appreciation  and  praise 
for  such  intellectual  achievements  as  bear  directly 
on  the  improvement  of  political  and  social  condi- 
tions, you  cannot  expect  the  life  of  the  scholar  and 
thinker  and  writer  in  other  domains  to  present  to 
aspiring  youth  that  fascination  which  is  the  great- 
est factor  in  determining  the  direction  of  his  am- 
bitions. Exalt  service  by  all  means,  but  preserve 
for  pure  intellectual  achievement  its  own  place  of 
distinction  and  regard.  Do  the  one,  and  applaud 
it;  but  leave  not  the  other  undone  or  unhonored." 
The  advancement,  then,  of  undergraduate  schol- 
arship is  to  be  considered,  not  merely  or  chiefly 
as  a  question  of  the  environment  of  the  under- 
graduate —  his  world  of  associations  or  activities, 
or  even  of  sentiment,  except  as  that  is  understood 
in  its  wide  relations.  Undergraduate  scholarship 
is  fundamentally  related  to  the  aim  and  purpose 
and  actual  operation  of  the  undergraduate  school, 
involving  many  questions  of  the  kind  which  have 
been  suggested.  It  is  vitally  related  to  those  laws 
of  human  nature  which  insist  upon  personal  power 
as  an  element  in  leadership,  and  which  cannot  be 
waived  in  favor  of  the  scholar  who  persists  in  ig- 
noring the  requisite  physical  and  social  training. 
It  is  no  less  vitally  related  to  the  intellectual  life 
of  the  whole  community,  committed  as  every  col- 


UNDERGRADUATE  SCHOLARSHIP        49 

lege  is,  according  to  the  measure  of  its  influence, 
to  the  high  endeavor  of  bringing  order  out  of  the 
present  confusion;  of  elevating  the  intellectual 
tone  of  society;  and  especially  of  creating  a  con- 
stituency able  to  resist  the  more  enticing,  but  de- 
moralizing, influences  of  modern  civilization,  and 
able  to  support  those  influences  which  can  alone 
invigorate  and  refine  it.  It  is  always  best  to  take 
the  real  measure  of  an  urgent  problem,  to  dismiss 
all  impatience,  to  work  on  under  the  inspiration  of 
the  knowledge  that  the  process  of  solution  is  long 
and  hard,  and  that  it  widens  as  it  advances;  but 
to  feel  that  delaying  questions,  which  rise  on  the 
way,  contribute  to  the  assurance  of  a  satisfying  re- 
sult. Something  will  have  been  gained  in  the  present 
instance,  if  it  has  been  made  evident  to  the  public 
that  the  problem  of  undergraduate  scholarship  is 
not  so  easy,  so  narrow,  or  so  uninspiring  a  problem, 
as  many  of  the  critics  would  have  us  believe. 


The  goal  of  Progress  is  a  "  flying  goal." 

TWENTY  years  ago  I  took  for  the  subject  of  a 
Phi  Beta  Kappa  address  at  Harvard,  "The  New 
Movement  in  Humanity:  from  Liberty  to  Unity."  * 
The  movement  thus  indicated  seemed  at  the  time 
to  warrant  a  broad  generalization.  It  represented 
a  very  radical  change  in  popular  thought  and  feel- 
ing, and  one  which  was  widespread,  namely,  the 
change  from  an  absorbing  interest  in  individual 
rights  to  an  almost  equally  absorbing  interest  in  the 
social  order.  Society  became  possessed  with  the 
sense  of  the  loneliness  and  the  waste  incident  to 
individualism.  In  spiritual  relations  there  was  an 
eager  craving  for  fellowship.  In  material  affairs 

1  Originally  printed  in  the  Harvard  Graduates'  Magazine,  vol.  i,  no. 
1,  and  afterwards  published  in  pamphlet  form  by  Houghton,  Miffiin 
and  Company  in  1892,  but  now  out  of  print.  It  is  reproduced  (in  the 
Appendix)  to  recall  the  state  of  public  opinion  at  the  beginning  of  the 
movement  away  from  individualism  toward  present  conceptions  of  the 
social  order.  The  contrast  between  the  immediate  end  then  sought 
and  that  now  in  view  shows  how  sudden  and  sharp  may  be  the 
change  in  the  goal  of  social  progress.  I  am  indebted  to  my  friend 
Dr.  Gordon,  of  the  Old  South  Church,  Boston,  for  the  figure  of  the 
"flying  goal"  which  seems  to  be  no  less  applicable  to  the  aims  of 
social  progress  than  to  the  ideals  of  religious  faith. 


THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY  51 

men  stood  ready  to  undertake  enterprises  of  vast 
moment  under  the  stimulus  of  the  cooperative 
spirit.  Naturally  the  conception  of  unity  found  a 
place  among  the  ruling  ideas  of  the  time.  It  passed 
from  a  vague  desire  to  a  rational  and  practicable 
object  of  pursuit,  worthy  of  endeavor  and,  if  need 
be,  of  sacrifice,  and  capable  of  realization.  By 
common  consent  unity  became  the  immediate  and 
definite  goal  of  social  progress. 

In  many  ways  the  movement  toward  unity  has 
surpassed  the  expectations  which  it  awakened.  It 
has  effected  vital  changes  in  the  social  order, 
changes  in  form  as  well  as  in  spirit;  it  has  tem- 
pered the  atmosphere  of  religion,  and  brought  its 
various  agencies  into  more  harmonious  action ;  and 
it  has  given  substance  and  shape,  if  not  a  present 
reality,  to  what  had  been  the  elusive  hope  of  uni- 
versal peace.  But  while  this  movement  has  been 
and  is  advancing  throughout  Christendom  and 
beyond,  it  has  been  sharply  arrested  at  the  center 
-  at  the  heart  of  the  great  democracies.  No  one 
can  overlook  or  ignore  the  effect  of  the  struggle 
for  equality  which  has  arisen  there.  Equality  and 
unity  are  in  no  sense  incompatible,  provided  the 
natural  sequence  is  followed.  The  demand  for 
equality,  like  the  demand  for  liberty,  whenever 
it  is  serious  takes  precedence.  The  presumption 
is  in  favor  of  the  seriousness  and  of  the  justice  of 


52  THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY 

the  present  demand,  largely  because  it  is  so  defi- 
nite. Certainly  it  is  no  vague  cry  of  discontent 
needing  most  of  all  to  be  interpreted  to  those  who 
utter  it.  The  need  of  interpretation  is  much  more 
evidently  with  those  who  hear  it,  who  hear,  but  do 
not  heed  or  understand.  In  times  of  discontent, 
whether  vague  or  well  defined,  the  greatest  dan- 
ger lies  in  the  over-occupied  or  dulled  mind  of  the 
generation. 


What  is  the  ground  of  the  present  demand  for 
equality?  Why  are  we  called  upon  to  turn  aside 
from  urgent  and  far-reaching  plans  in  behalf  of 
unity  to  make  equality  the  more  immediate  goal 
of  social  progress? 

Incidentally  the  attempt  to  answer  this  ques- 
tion may  lead  to  a  better  understanding  of  the 
practical  significance  of  equality.  To  many  minds 
equality  is  an  impossibility.  Theoretically  it  is 
impossible.  Of  the  classic  interpretations  which 
have  been  given,  some  have  been  frankly  termed 
Utopian,  and  all  others  have  been  so  regarded. 
But  there  are  equalities  which  are  entirely  practi- 
cable, and  which  taken  together  may  create  a  state 
of  comparative  equality.  Nature  has  been  grossly 
overcharged  with  inequality.  It  has  been  found 
that  the  area  of  natural  inequality  can  be  greatly 


THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY  53 

restricted,  and  that  very  many  apparently  natural 
inequalities  can  be  relieved.  A  condition  of  con- 
stantly increasing  equality  is  thus  possible  in  almost 
any  community,  because  the  inequalities  below 
the  line  can  be  diminished  more  easily  than  the  in- 
equalities above  the  line  can  be  increased.  Inequal- 
ity above  the  line  ought  to  be  allowed  and  encour- 
aged in  the  interest  of  the  individual  as  it  becomes 
the  result  of  personal  merit. 

The  advance  of  the  demand  for  equality  from  one 
kind  or  form  of  it  to  another  shows  how  practicable 
a  thing  it  really  is:  it  shows  still  more  clearly  how 
impossible  it  is  to  satisfy  the  demand  once  for  all. 
Equality  is  altogether  a  relative  matter  varying 
with  the  rate  and  general  conditions  of  social  prog- 
ress. A  condition  of  substantial  equality  may  be 
reached  in  a  democracy,  only  to  be  disturbed,  and 
perhaps  overthrown,  by  some  unequal  develop- 
ment, economic,  educational,  or  even  religious.  The 
most  serious  mistake  possible  in  this  matter  is  that 
of  assuming  that  a  condition  of  equality  can  be 
maintained  by  the  means  through  which  it  was 
gained.  This  is  the  common  mistake  of  a  political 
democracy.  It  is  the  mistake  which  we  are  now  in 
danger  of  making,  as  may  be  seen  from  the  present 
tendency  to  treat  all  social  grievances  politically  - 
the  tendency  on  the  one  hand  to  make  political 
capital  out  of  them,  and  the  tendency  on  the  other 


54  THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY 

hand  to  deny  their  existence  apart  from  the  opera- 
tion of  political  causes.  The  fact,  however,  is  be- 
coming more  and  more  evident  that  the  deter- 
mining considerations  affecting  the  maintenance 
of  equality  among  the  people  of  this  country  are 
no  longer  altogether  or  chiefly  political,  but  to  an 
increasing  extent  economic. 

Politics,  using  the  term  in  the  conventional 
sense,  has  much  yet  to  accomplish  in  the  extension 
of  popular  rights,  and  very  much  yet  to  accom- 
plish for  their  security.  There  are  belated  issues,  like 
woman's  suffrage,  to  be  settled,  and  there  are  modi- 
fications of  the  political  system  to  be  effected  to 
make  it  more  responsive  to  the  popular  will.  The 
introduction  of  the  Australian  ballot,  by  far  the 
greatest  device  for  insuring  equality  in  the  electo- 
rate as  well  as  purity  in  elections,  opened  the  way 
for  other  devices  which  are  now  being  incorpo- 
rated into  political  programmes,  some  of  which  will 
prove  to  be  permanent,  while  others  will  doubtless 
be  laid  aside  after  having  fulfilled  certain  local  or 
temporary  ends.  The  initiative,  the  referendum, 
and  the  recall,  and  even  the  primary,  are  schemes 
which  may  be  said  to  be  under  trial,  the  problem 
being  to  find  out  how  far  the  increase  in  political 
machinery  can  be  made  to  work  in  the  interest 
of  the  people  at  large  —  how  far,  that  is,  the 
people  will  be  willing  to  work  the  machinery  them- 


THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY  55 

selves  without  calling  in,  or  allowing,  the  help  of 
the  politicians.  These,  however,  and  all  like 
schemes  (that  of  proportional  representation  must 
soon  be  included  if  political  parties  increase  in  num- 
ber), represent  the  unfinished  tasks  of  a  political 
democracy,  acting  with  a  view  to  self-preservation 
or  self-assertion.  They  are  really  inherited  tasks. 
They  belong  to  the  political  world  of  yesterday 
rather  than  to  the  economic  world  of  to-day. 

What  is  the  essential  distinction  between  the 
political  world  of  yesterday,  from  which  we  have 
inherited  many  unfinished  tasks,  and  the  economic 
world  of  to-day,  which  is  confronting  us  with  new 
tasks  which  are  as  yet  mostly  in  the  form  of  prob- 
lems? The  ruling  conception  of  the  political  world 
was,  and  is,  the  conception  of  rights.  The  ruling 
conception  of  the  economic  world  is  the  conception 
of  values.  Political  progress  toward  equality  - 
it  has  been  very  great  —  has  come  about  through 
the  recognition  of  rights.  Economic  progress 
toward  equality,  if  it  is  to  be  equally  marked, 
must  come  about  through  a  like  recognition  of 
values. 

In  this  distinction  between  rights  and  values  we 
have  the  ground  of  the  present  advanced  demand 
for  equality.  The  kind  of  equality  now  demanded 
is  based,  not  so  much  on  the  sense  of  rights  as  on 
the  sense  of  values.  The  cause  of  equality  inherits 


56  THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY 

through  democracy  the  right  of  equal  opportun- 
ity. It  is  still  the  function  of  political  liberty  to 
guard  the  right.  But  new  economic  conditions  call 
for  an  equality  estimated  in  terms  of  value  accord- 
ing to  service  rendered.  My  contention  is  that  the 
satisfaction  of  this  particular  demand  lies  outside 
the  province  of  politics,  unless  we  accept  the  tenets 
of  political  socialism.  The  logic  of  the  political 
invasion  of  the  economic  world,  beyond  the  en- 
deavor to  guarantee  equality  of  opportunity,  is  the 
socialistic  state. 

ii 

In  the  economic  world  attention  and  interest 
center  around  the  creation  of  wealth.  The  process 
is  twofold  —  to  produce  articles  of  intrinsic  worth, 
and  to  induce  the  desire  for  them.  The  joint  result 
of  the  process  is  expressed  in  terms  of  market  value. 
To  the  extent  to  which  a  political  democracy 
becomes  an  industrial  democracy  the  new  values 
created  by  industry  entitle  the  industrial  worker  to 
another  kind  of  consideration  than  that  conferred 
upon  him  by  the  right  of  suffrage.  Universal  suf- 
frage can  no  longer  satisfy  his  claim  to  recogni- 
tion. He  demands  a  new  rating  based  not  simply 
upon  his  manhood,  but  also  upon  the  value  of  his 
contribution  to  the  material  wealth  of  society.  His 
claim  rests,  of  course,  upon  the  estimate  which  so- 


THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY  57 

ciety  itself  places  at  any  time  upon  material  wealth, 
that  is,  upon  its  market  value.  There  can  be  no 
question  about  the  present  estimate,  the  almost 
supreme  regard  in  which  it  is  held,  the  concentra- 
tion of  desire  upon  it. 

In  any  attempt  to  understand  the  growing  sense 
of  inequality,  as  distinct  from  the  various  experi- 
ences of  poverty,  of  misfortune,  or  even  of  injustice, 
there  are  facts  of  plain  observation  which  give  the 
right  approach.  One  is  the  fact  to  which  I  have 
just  referred  —  the  concentration  of  popular  desire 
upon  material  good.  This  desire  has  broken  down 
many  of  the  distinctions  heretofore  existing  be- 
tween persons,  and  opened  the  way  to  general  and 
often  fierce  competition.  Before  the  competition 
for  material  good,  other  competitions  have  retired. 
It  is  almost  impossible,  for  example,  to  stimulate 
competition  within  the  range  of  education,  unless 
the  prize  bears  the  clear  mark  of  utility.  This  level- 
ing process,  this  growing  flatness  of  desire,  means 
leveling  up  as  well  as  leveling  down.  Desires  meet 
upon  a  common  plane.  The  demand  for  works  of 
art  is  still  limited.  Everybody  wants  an  automo- 
bile. These  objects  of  common  desire  have  come  to 
be  the  ordinary  products  of  industry,  increased  in 
value  as  they  become  more  artistic  in  design,  but 
still  the  products  of  industry.  They  represent  the 
comforts,  the  conveniences,  and  many  of  the  luxu- 


58  THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY 

ries,  which  any  one  can  appreciate  and  which  every 
one  would  like  to  enjoy. 

Beyond  this  lies  the  further  fact,  perhaps  more 
significant,  of  that  love  of  display  attending  the 
possession  of  these  objects  of  common  desire,  which 
greatly  provokes  the  sense  of  inequality.  The  chief 
street  of  any  great  city  is  a  moving-picture  show, 
open  to  all  dwellers  on  the  side  streets  and  in  the 
alleys.  The  economies  of  trade  are  bringing  about 
an  enforced  proximity  of  those  who  make  the  more 
attractive  goods  to  those  who  buy  and  display 
them.  The  great  stores  on  Fifth  Avenue  now  use 
their  upper  floors  for  workshops.  At  the  noon  hour 
the  operatives  occupy  the  Avenue.  It  is  not  to  be 
supposed  that  they  are  idle  observers,  or  that  their 
daily  observation  fails  to  make  a  cumulative  im- 
pression. Nothing  could  be  better  calculated  to 
develop  the  latent  sense  of  inequality  than  this 
increasing  familiarity,  this  more  public  intimacy, 
with  those  who  are  in  possession  of  the  objects  of 
common  desire.  What  may  now  seem  to  be  a  mere 
incident  attending  the  growth  of  "publicity"  may 
yet  be  seen  to  have  far-reaching  social  results. 

This  growing  sense  of  inequality  on  the  part  of 
industrial  workers  is  not  to  be  attributed  to  mere 
envy  and  greed.  Envy  and  greed  are  individual 
qualities.  The  sense  of  inequality  is  becoming  a 
matter  of  class-consciousness,  developed  by  the 


THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY  59 

belief  that  the  new  material  values  are  the  crea- 
tion of  industry,  and  excited  by  the  conviction  that 
labor  is  the  supreme  agency  in  industry.  Hence  the 
rapid  growth  of  laborism. 

Laborism,  like  capitalism,  or  any  other  "ism," 
means  simply  the  overestimation  of  the  value  of 
the  things  for  which  it  stands.  It  is  the  overesti- 
mation which  always  makes  the  trouble,  but  that 
would  not  be  possible  were  it  not  for  the  underlying 
value.  Capitalism  has  produced  its  own  class-con- 
sciousness with  all  of  its  attendant  evils  —  arbitra- 
riness and  arrogance,  indifference  to  human  needs 
and  rights,  and  the  love  of  luxury.  Laborism,  as 
such,  has  as  its  crude  aim  to  supplant  capitalism 
and  to  rule  in  its  stead,  avoiding,  of  course,  in  ex- 
pectation and  promise  all  attendant  evils.  We  are 
familiar  with  the  development  of  capitalism  from 
an  economic  system  into  what  has  become  almost 
a  social  caste.  We  ought  not  to  be  surprised  at  the 
counter-development  of  laborism  in  making  use 
of  class-consciousness  to  create  its  own  economic 
system. 

Our  interest,  however,  in  the  growth  of  indus- 
trial discontent,  so  far  as  the  present  discussion  is 
concerned,  lies  in  the  fact  that  it  is  just  here  that 
the  spirit  of  equality  is  most  evidently  at  work,  and 
most  easily  distinguishable  in  aim  and  method 
from  any  workings  of  the  general  spirit  of  restless- 


60  THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY 

ness  and  discontent.  If  we  say  that  the  mind  of  the 
industrial  worker  demands  too  much  considera- 
tion because  it  is  the  mind  of  a  segregated  class, 
we  simply  intensify  the  problem.  Why  has  a  class, 
so  large  a  class,  become  segregated,  and  why  is  it 
specially  imbued  with  the  sense  of  inequality?  The 
question  grows  in  importance,  as  well  as  in  clear- 
ness, as  we  disconnect  the  sense  of  inequality  so 
generally  existing  among  industrial  workers  from 
those  discontents  which  are  fostered  by  other 
causes.  The  struggle  for  equality,  as  we  now  see 
it,  is  a  part  of  the  evolution  of  labor. 

Shall  the  labor  question,  then,  —  to  return  to 
our  inquiry  about  the  political  invasion  of  the 
economic  world,  —  be  made  a  political  question  to 
be  settled  by  political  methods,  or  shall  it  be  allowed 
to  work  itself  out  under  the  impulse  and  direction 
of  the  spirit  of  equality?  Is  it  primarily  a  question 
of  rights  or  of  values?  The  conflict  of  labor  with 
capital  is  a  social  fact,  but  unhappily  this  does  not 
mean  that  society  at  large  really  understands  the 
meaning  of  the  conflict,  or  follows  its  programme 
with  growing  intelligence.  Public  opinion  still  re- 
flects the  political,  rather  than  the  economic,  state 
of  mind.  A  strike,  for  example,  we  refer  at  once  to 
some  working  of  the  spirit  of  liberty,  although  we 
are  often  sadly  confused  in  our  endeavor  to  find 
out  the  "rights"  involved.  If  we  could  accustom 


THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY  61 

ourselves  to  think  of  a  strike,  or  any  like  move  on 
the  part  of  organized  labor,  as  a  continued  and 
progressive  assertion  of  the  spirit  of  equality,  we 
should  at  least  relieve  our  minds  of  much  confusion, 
whether  in  individual  cases  we  approve  or  disap- 
prove the  strike.  What  I  have  termed  the  evolu- 
tion of  labor  has  been  a  steady  and,  on  the  whole, 
consistent  struggle  for  the  recognition  of  the 
"values"  involved  in  the  part  taken  by  labor  in 
the  productive  industries.  No  rights  have  been 
claimed  apart  from  these  values,  actual  or  as- 
sumed. The  labor  question  is  always  fundamen- 
tally a  question  of  values,  whatever  question  of  in- 
dividual rights  may  spring  up  in  connection  with 
any  contest.1 

There  is,  of  course,  and  always  must  be,  a  broad 
field  for  political  action  in  the  equalization  of  rights. 
The  Government  must  be  honest,  else  we  shall  have 
the  greatest  possible  inequality;  it  must  be  free 
from  privilege  and  monopoly;  it  must  be  fair  in  the 
distribution  of  burdens;  it  must  be  wise  in  the  open- 

1  The  shock  to  the  country  from  the  recent  threatened  railroad 
strike  pending  action  by  the  Congress  emphasizes  the  distinction 
which  has  been  urged  between  economic  and  political  methods  for 
the  satisfaction  of  the  demands  of  organized  labor.  The  strike  is  a 
legitimate  economic  weapon:  as  a  political  threat  it  is  utterly  ille- 
gitimate. C'arricd  over  into  politics,  a  strike  becomes  a  revolution. 
Revolutionary  methods  have  no  justification  except  in  the  vindica- 
tion of  human  rights.  They  have  no  place  in  the  settlement  of 
economic  values.  Should  they  be  adopted  by  organized  labor  they 
would  make  organized  labor  a  political  outlaw. 


62  THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY 

ing  of  opportunities.  The  Government  may  also 
be  made  the  guardian  of  the  national  resources,  if 
necessary  through  ownership;  and  it  may  be  put 
in  control  of  those  agencies  of  communication  and 
of  distribution  upon  which  all  are  in  common  and 
alike  dependent.  Within  the  field  of  industrialism 
the  Government  must  be  ceaselessly  active  in  the 
protection  of  the  laborer.  It  may  determine  under 
what  conditions  work  shall  be  carried  on,  and  in 
some  cases  prescribe,  as  in  that  of  children,  who 
shall  not  work  at  all.  All  these  matters  are  proper 
subjects  of  political  action,  but  they  do  not  reach 
the  essential  issue  between  labor  and  capital,  which 
is  simply  the  question  of  the  relative  value  of  the 
part  taken  by  each  in  the  productive  industries. 
My  contention  is  that  we  cannot  settle  this  ques- 
tion politically,  and  that  any  promises  to  this  effect 
are  altogether  misleading  unless  we  are  prepared 
to  go  further  and  concede  the  socialistic  state.  It 
may  be  quite  possible  for  a  political  party  to  lose 
control  of  its  original  intentions,  but  it  is  to  be 
assumed  that  it  will  act  within  the  accepted  politi- 
cal limits. 

Political  legislation  bearing  upon  this  issue,  even 
when  it  is  accepted  and  urged  by  those  most  con- 
cerned, is  always  looked  upon  with  a  degree  of 
mistrust,  and  when  it  is  put  forward  as  a  mean?  of 
arresting  the  socialistic  tendency  of  labor  is  quite 


THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY  63 

sure  to  provoke  reply.  What  is  the  motive  of  it  all, 
the  reply  runs,  except  the  "conservation  of  human 
resources,"  the  "stopping  of  the  waste  in  the  earn- 
ing power  of  the  Nation."  When  you  have  made 
the  State  most  considerate  of  the  conditions  of 
labor,  what  have  you  really  done  in  the  interest 
of  a  just  equality?  In  fact,  have  you  not,  through 
what  you  have  done,  confirmed  and  established 
the  present  inequality?  Your  programme  of  leg- 
islation is  designed  to  increase  efficiency,  for  effi- 
ciency creates  prosperity,  and  prosperity  means 
more  wealth,  but  not  of  necessity  any  change  in 
the  distribution  of  it.  Under  existing  economic 
conditions,  the  reply  still  runs,  the  relative  posi- 
tion of  the  classes  concerned  would  not  be  changed. 
In  prosperous  times  capital  gets  more  and  labor 
gets  more,  but  the  capitalist  and  the  laborer  are 
not  thereby  brought  nearer  together.  The  system 
which  holds  them  apart  remains  the  same,  insuring 
the  continuance  of  the  existing  inequality. 

I  do  not  see  how  any  political  programme  can 
satisfy  and  therefore  silence  the  argument  of  mili- 
tant socialism,  unless,  as  I  have  said,  those  who 
urge  it  are  prepared  to  go  further  and  concede  the 
socialistic  state.  Personally  I  am  an  ardent  believer 
in  legislation  for  the  furtherance  of  "social  justice" 
quite  irrespective  of  the  ability  or  inability  of  such 
legislation  to  stay  the  socialistic  tendencies  of  labor. 


64  THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY 

In  my  judgment  the  Government  can  hardly  be  set 
to  tasks  more  worthy  of  it  than  those  which,  in 
their  redress  of  wrongs,  carry  the  chivalrous  sugges- 
tion of  knight-errantry.  But  I  do  not  allow  myself  to 
be  beguiled  into  the  belief  that  the  labor  question, 
in  so  far  as  it  involves  the  struggle  for  economic 
equality,  can  be  settled  by  legislation,  least  of  all 
by  legislation  subject  to  the  vicissitudes  of  political 
parties. 

in 

I  think  that  it  will  appear  upon  due  reflection 
that  the  goal  of  equality  in  the  economic  world, 
like  the  goal  of  liberty  in  the  political  world,  is 
likely  to  be  reached  through  struggle,  if  for  no 
other  reason  than  that  unworthy  and  impractica- 
ble desires  may  be  thereby  eliminated.  Struggle 
always  carries  the  liability  of  conflict,  and  conflict 
of  violence.  In  times  of  conflict,  especially  if  char- 
acterized by  violence,  it  is  difficult  to  appreciate 
the  fact  that  the  underlying  and  really  prevailing 
forces  may  be  set  toward  peace.  Yet  this  has  been 
the  fact  in  most  of  the  conflicts  which  have  resulted 
in  industrial  progress.  Conflict  does  not  necessarily 
mean  permanent  enmity,  if  it  really  means  enmity 
at  all.  More  frequently  than  otherwise  it  is  the 
means  through  which  those  who  have  mutual  inter- 
ests are  able  to  reach  some  satisfactory  adjustment 


THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY  65 

of  them.  The  conflict  of  labor  with  capital  is  a  con- 
flict for  the  adjustment  of  mutual  interests.  The 
question  at  issue  is  the  question  of  the  values  con- 
tributed by  each  in  the  production  of  wealth.  Who 
shall  settle  this  question?  How  can  it  be  settled 
except  by  protracted  and  serious  experiment,  in- 
volving at  times  the  element  of  contention? 

I  have  long  held  the  theory  that  the  most  re- 
warding occupations,  those  which  give  the  greatest 
intellectual  and  moral  satisfactions,  and  usually 
corresponding  social  position,  should  not  be  reck- 
oned among  the  more  remunerative  in  the  way  of 
money :  and  that  among  manual  occupations  money 
should  be  given,  in  seeming  disproportion,  to  the 
worker  in  the  monotonous,  disheartening,  and  dan- 
gerous occupations.  I  seldom  find  a  person,  how- 
ever, whose  opinion  coincides  with  mine.  Current 
opinion  is  based  on  the  assumption  that  those  who 
have  acquired  intellectual  tastes  ought  to  have  the 
means  of  gratifying  them,  and  that  those  who  have 
acquired  skill  ought  to  be  paid  according  to  the  cost 
of  its  acquisition,  or  its  market  value.  Evidently 
opinions  on  this  and  like  subjects  cannot  be  or- 
ganized into  standards.  Questions  of  values  can- 
not be  settled  out  of  court,  and  court  in  the 
industrial  world  is  the  workshop. 

Two  closely  related  facts  of  very  great  signifi- 
cance and  of  very  great  promise  are  beginning  to 


66  THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY 

emerge  out  of  the  conflict  of  labor  and  capital  — 
the  growing  intelligence  of  labor,  and  the  growing 
intelligence  of  capital,  in  respect  to  matters  of  com- 
mon interest.  Of  these  two  facts,  the  latter  is  by 
far  the  more  significant.  The  intelligence  of  capital 
has  not  been  directed  primarily  toward  the  value  of 
labor.  Labor  has  been  undervalued  partly  because 
it  has  been  undeveloped.  Natural  forces  have  in 
many  fields  been  developed  to  their  full  limit,  in- 
ventions have  been  utilized,  machinery  has  been 
worked  under  high  tension,  while  the  laborer  has 
been  left  in  a  state  of  relative  inefficiency.  Sud- 
denly the  mind  of  capital  has  become  concerned 
about  this  lost  or  unutilized  value. 

A  new  type  of  leader  has  arisen  among  the 
captains  of  industry  who  is  studying  the  human 
element  in  industrialism,  directly  of  course  in  the 
interest  of  efficiency,  but  also  with  humane  inten- 
tions and  sympathies.  "We  have  got  to  learn," 
says  one  of  the  most  successful  of  private  manu- 
facturers, a  man  well  known  in  political  life,  "we 
have  got  to  learn  to  utilize  the  brains  of  our  work- 
ers. The  man  can  grow,  the  machine  cannot."  What 
does  this  mean  except  partnership  in  profit-making 
—  a  step  far  in  advance  of  profit-sharing?  How 
long  will  it  be  after  "  the  brains  "  of  labor  have  been 
fully  recognized  before  capital  must  be  prepared 
to  answer  questions  about  costs  and  profits,  about 


THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY  67 

methods,  about  policies,  about  public  questions 
which  affect  not  labor  alone,  but  labor  and  capital 
alike? 

No  one  can  predict  what  is  to  follow  the  present 
change  of  disposition  on  the  part  of  capital  toward 
labor.  Schemes  of  social  welfare,  pension  systems, 
cooperative  agreements,  and  limited  partnerships 
are  significant  in  themselves,  but  still  more  signi- 
ficant in  what  they  suggest.  The  great  point  in 
dispute  will  have  been  recognized  and  conceded 
in  all  its  possibilities  when  the  word  which  I  have 
quoted  becomes  an  accepted  saying-  "The  man 
can  grow."  The  full  recognition  of  the  growth  of 
the  man  in  the  worker  will  insure  a  just  equality. 
Industrialism  will  come  to  represent  increasingly 
a  partnership  "for  better,  for  worse."  Capitalism 
and  laborism  at  least  will  disappear. 

To  dismiss  this  idea  under  the  charge  of  im- 
practicability is  simply  begging  the  question.  Most 
movements  involving  confidence  in  the  intelligence 
and  capacity  of  the  masses  have  passed  through  the 
stage  of  the  impracticable  or  impossible.  Mark 
Ilanna  is  credited  with  having  said  that  "he  would 
rather  be  the  man  to  adjust  the  relations  of  labor 
and  capital  than  be  President  of  the  United  States." 
He  was  wise  in  his  ambition.  It  showed  a  true  sense 
of  proportion.  It  showed  also  the  possibilities  evi- 
dent to  the  mind  of  a  sagacious  man  of  affairs.  The 


68  THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY 

man  who  can  make  the  adjustment  suggested  is 
possible.  Such  a  leader  ought  to  arise  in  due  time 
out  of  the  ranks  of  labor  or  capital.  The  problem 
is  an  economic  problem.  It  does  not  fall  within  the 
province  of  the  politician  or  statesman.  Only  a 
statesman  with  the  economic  genius  of  Alexander 
Hamilton,  but  thoroughly  humanized  in  his  sympa- 
thies, could  hope  to  solve  it.  The  merely  political 
solution,  if  the  process  is  logical,  must  be  the  social- 
istic state.  The  economic  solution  ought  to  be  such 
an  identification  or  partnership  of  labor  with  capital 
as  may  express  their  essential  unity  of  interest. 

IV 

Meanwhile  the  public  cannot  be  an  indifferent 
spectator  of  the  evolution  of  labor  as  it  is  now  go- 
ing on.  The  interests  of  us  all  are  directly  affected 
by  the  process  when  it  is  normal,  and  much  more 
vitally  affected  when  it  becomes  at  any  time  abnor- 
mal. Organized  labor,  with  all  its  affiliated  num- 
bers, represents  a  small  minority  of  the  nation. 
The  labor  question  is  but  one  of  many  questions  of 
public  concern.  When  the  labor  movement  passes 
without  the  legitimate  bounds  of  action  it  must  be 
treated  as  any  other  movement  would  be  treated 
in  like  circumstances.  The  sympathetic  attitude  of 
the  public  toward  labor  ceases  when  its  methods 
become  revolutionary.  Offenses  against  the  public 


THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY  69 

order  which  have  long  been  outlawed  cannot  be 
condoned.  On  the  other  hand  there  is  evident  need 
of  very  great  patience  on  the  part  of  the  public  in 
view  of  the  many  complications  growing  out  of  the 
employment  of  unskilled  labor. 

So  long  as  we  invite,  or  allow,  certain  kinds  of 
immigration,  we  must  expect  trouble.  We  pay  the 
price  of  "cheap  labor"  in  disturbed  social  condi- 
tions and  in  debased  moral  standards.  If  as  a  na- 
tion we  had  given  the  same  attention  to  immigra- 
tion that  we  have  given  to  the  tariff,  we  might  have 
different  results  to  show  in  respect  to  social  secur- 
ity and  moral  advancement. 

Public  opinion  must  remain  the  final  arbiter  in 
all  labor  disputes.  It  cannot  act  with  military 
promptness  and  precision.  It  is  better  that  it  can- 
not so  act.  The  intervention  of  the  Government 
on  occasions  of  violence  is  sufficient.  For  the  most 
part  the  process  of  industrial  development,  in  "vhich 
all  are  concerned,  must  be  regarded  as  educative. 
It  involves  the  moral  discipline  of  society,  as  well 
as  of  labor  and  capital.  It  is  but  one  part  of  the 
great  endeavor,  difficult  but  necessary, 

"  To  drill  the  raw  world  for  the  march  of  mind, 
Till  crowds  at  length  be  sane  and  crowns  be  just." 

The  attitude,  however,  of  the  public  toward  the 
struggle  for  equality  cannot  be  simply  that  of  inter- 
est or  concern.  There  is  a  more  imperative  duty 


70  THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY 

than  the  duty  of  arbitration.  The  social  movement 
which  has  acquired  such  moral  momentum  is  the 
unconscious  expression  of  the  spirit  of  equality 
working  downward  to  meet  the  struggle  which  is 
going  on  below.  The  principle  of  all  social  service 
is  community  of  interest.  The  concern  of  one  is 
made  the  concern  of  all.  Every  member  of  society 
is  regarded  as  an  active  and  contributing  member. 
He  may  have  nothing  to  contribute  but  a  grievance. 
That,  if  offered  in  the  spirit  of  a  contribution,  may 
be  at  any  given  time  the  best  gift  of  all.  In  fact, 
it  is  this  giving  from  below  as  well  as  from  above 
which  distinguishes  the  present  social  method  from 
the  old-time  methods  of  charity.  The  person  who 
receives,  if  he  receives  at  all,  becomes  an  active 
recipient.  Thenceforth  he  is  more  distinctly  a 
member  of  the  community.  Perhaps  he  represents 
something  more  than  an  individual  want.  That 
increases  his  value.  He  brings  others  of  like  needs 
into  the  community  —  into  the  concern  of  all. 
Grievances  thus  come  out  into  the  open.  Some 
give  way  before  mutual  understanding.  Others 
become  the  subject  of  honest  and  sympathetic  in- 
vestigation. Meanwhile  the  larger  and  common 
interests  of  the  community  are  brought  within  the 
range  of  separated  and  more  inaccessible  lives.  Old 
channels  of  communication  are  reopened  and  set 
free.  New  means  of  intercourse  are  established. 


THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY  71 

Access  is  made  easy  from  whatever  is  lowest  and 
most  remote  to  whatever  is  best  in  the  community. 
Individuals  and  families  are  taught  how  to  become 
sharers  in  the  public  good. 

Any  one  with  the  gift  or  training  for  social  ob- 
servation may  see  this  socializing  process  going 
on  at  the  great  social  settlements  of  the  cities.  A 
social  settlement  is  a  human  exchange.  The  values 
dealt  in  are  personal  values.  This  fact,  which  is 
quickly  discoverable,  stands  for  the  rarest  type 
of  equality.  The  steady  contact  of  persons  with 
persons  acting  toward  a  common  end  offers  a  very 
practical  relief  to  the  sense  of  inequality.  Personal 
distinctions  cease  to  be  of  much  account:  only  dif- 
ferences in  condition  remain.  And  even  in  this 
regard  the  idea  of  equality  is  realized,  or  perhaps 
better,  lost  sight  of,  in  the  growing  sense  of  a  com- 
munity of  interest. 

Social  service  has  brought  out  the  natural  af- 
filiation between  education  and  organized  labor, 
originally  expressed  in  the  relation  between  the 
universities  and  the  guilds.  From  the  strictly 
economic  point  of  view,  the  representatives  of  each 
are  upon  the  same  footing.  The  salary  is  the  same 
in  principle  with  the  wage  —  a  fixed  remuneration 
for  service  rendered  according  to  contract.  The 
average  salaried  person  among  educational  work- 
ers, if  he  compares  his  position  with  that  of  the 


72  THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY 

wage-earner,  may  with  equal  fitness  think  of  him- 
self as  the  hired  man  of  society.  That  he  does  not 
so  think  of  himself  is  due,  not  to  any  large  excess 
of  remuneration  above  his  fellow  worker  in  the 
trades,  but  rather  to  a  different  conception  of  his 
task  and  of  its  rewards.  Judged  by  the  standards 
of  wealth,  almost  any  educational  worker  in  a  com- 
munity is  an  inferior  person.  He  maintains  his 
place  in  society  by  refusing  to  be  judged  by  these 
standards,  and  in  so  doing  puts  himself  into  per- 
sonal relations  with  all  in  the  vast  brotherhood  of 
work. 

The  principle  of  community  of  interest  reaches, 
of  course,  beyond  and  below  the  fellowship  of  work 
into  the  environment  of  unskilled  labor.  Unskilled 
labor  touches  poverty  in  every  variety  of  form. 
The  inequalities  which  are  the  result  of  social  causes 
mingle  with  the  inequalities  within  industrialism  in 
almost  inextricable  confusion.  The  work  of  social 
reform  must  be  discriminating,  and  yet  it  must  be 
inclusive.  "The  social  economist,"  says  an  au- 
thority on  social  reform,  "seeks  to  establish  the 
normal  ...  to  eradicate  the  maladjustments  and 
abnormalities,  the  needless  inequalities  which  pre- 
vent our  realizing  our  own  reasonable  standards." 
It  is  here,  in  this  undefined  region  of  inequality, 
that  the  struggle  for  equality  must  go  on  hand  in 
hand  with  patient  scientific  service,  and  in  no  less 


THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY  73 

close  alliance  with  the  forces  which  are  fighting 
greed  and  commercialized  vice.  Nearly  all  the  con- 
ditions of  existence  which  stir  our  sympathies,  kin- 
dle indignation,  and  arouse  the  public  conscience, 
crowd  the  line  of  the  "living  wage." 


I  am  convinced,  so  far  as  social  progress  in  this 
country  is  concerned,  that  we  are  wise  if  we  relate 
the  organized  discontent  in  the  midst  of  us  directly 
to  the  growth  of  the  spirit  of  equality.  It  is  time 
for  the  spirit  of  equality  to  assert  itself  as  a  cor- 
rective to  our  unequal  development.  So  kindly  a 
critic  as  Mr.  Bryce  asks  the  pertinent  question, 
"Might  it  not  have  been  better  for  the  United 
States  if  their  growth  had  been  slower,  if  their  pub- 
lic lands  had  not  been  so  hastily  disposed  of,  if  in 
their  eagerness  to  obtain  the  labor  they  needed 
they  had  not  drawn  in  a  multitude  of  ignorant  im- 
migrants from  central  and  southern  Europe?"  It 
would  be  difficult  to  find  any  number  of  intelli- 
gent citizens  who  would  answer  this  question  in  the 
negative. 

We  know  that  we  have  grown  not  only  rapidly 
but  recklessly.  We  know  that  much  of  our  present 
wealth  is  capital  borrowed  from  the  future.  We 
know  that  we  have  stimulated  immigration  at  the 
cost  of  labor.  We  know  that  our  prosperity  will 


74  THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY 

not  bear  many  of  the  saving  tests  to  which  it 
ought  to  be  subjected.  Knowing  these  things,  and 
beginning  to  view  them  with  concern,  we  cannot 
deny  the  need  of  some  essentially  human  force 
which  shall  come  in  to  rectify  our  mistakes  —  some- 
thing which  shall  be  more  vital  in  its  action  than 
any  conventional  expedients  with  which  we  are 
familiar.  I  find,  as  it  seems  to  me,  such  a  correc- 
tive in  the  spirit  of  equality,  which  is  now  at  work 
in  the  Nation.  To  many  it  may  seem  too  narrow 
in  its  action,  as  its  sphere  of  operation  is  chiefly 
within  industrialism.  We  have  seen  the  reason  for 
this  limitation  in  the  fact  that  the  prevailing  con- 
ditions of  our  social  life  are  economic  conditions. 
The  spirit  of  equality  is  concerned,  therefore,  with 
the  production  and  distribution  of  economic  values 
rather  than  with  the  righting  of  purely  social  in- 
equalities. And  for  this  task  organized  labor  has 
been  and  is  the  ready  and  efficient  instrument. 

The  question  naturally  arises  —  Will  not  the 
spirit  of  equality,  once  given  the  requisite  freedom 
and  scope  under  present  industrial  conditions,  even 
if  kept  free  from  political  complications,  carry  us 
over  into  socialism?  Certainly  not,  if  socialism  is 
what  the  question  implies  or  what  the  most  of  us 
think  it  is  —  in  the  last  analysis  a  tyranny.  If  so- 
cialism is  not  this,  but  only  a  laissez-faire  kind  of 
democracy,  the  question  has  no  significance.  But 


THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY  75 

if  it  is  in  its  nature  undemocratic  and  tyrannous, 
if  it  creates  an  enforced  equality,  the  moment  it 
begins  to  reveal  its  nature  in  practical  ways  the 
spirit  of  liberty  may  be  trusted  to  guard  against  any 
excesses  of  the  spirit  of  equality.  This  is  one  of  its 
prerogatives.  It  is  a  part  of  its  ancient  and  un- 
relinquished discipline  to  assert  and  maintain  the 
rights  of  the  individual.  Even  now  in  the  midst 
of  our  social  enthusiasms  and  compulsions  one  may 
hear  the  protest  of  liberty  recalling  us  to  the  larger 
use  of  our  individuality. 

To  my  mind  there  is  a  more  serious  question,  be- 
cause open  to  a  more  doubtful  answer  —  will  the 
spirit  of  equality  carry  us  further  on  the  road  to 
materialism?  To  borrow  the  figure  of  Professor 
Eucken,  —  "Man's  works  have  outstripped  man 
—  they  go  their  way  of  their  own  accord  and  exact 
his  submission  to  their  demands."  If  these  works 
are  more  equally  shared,  will  they  draw  us  further 
on  the  downward  way?  The  immediate  aim  of 
equality  is  a  fairer  distribution  of  material  goods. 
This  implies,  as  has  already  been  pointed  out,  a 
concentration  of  desire  upon  those  objects.  The 
value  of  the  objects  which  lie  above  the  range  of 
necessity  consists  largely  in  the  fact  that  they  are 
accounted  so  desirable.  May  it  not  be  that,  with 
a  wider  distribution  of  these  objects,  their  value 
may  be  lessened  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  have  had 


76  THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY 

the  exclusive  possession  of  them,  so  that  not  even  a 
superior  quality  will  give  satisfaction?  Material- 
ism has  worked  its  way  into  the  life  of  the  masses 
from  above.  If  not  altogether  the  gift  of  those  who 
once  enjoyed  the  things  of  the  mind  and  of  the 
spirit,  it  derives  its  influence  from  them.  The  newly 
made,  or  simply  rich,  are  not  influential.  Revul- 
sion from  the  vulgarity  of  materialism  is  not  a  very 
high  motive,  and  will  not  accomplish  much  for 
those  who  are  most  sensitive  to  it,  but  in  due  time 
it  will  doubtless  have  its  influence  through  them 
upon  the  masses. 

It  is  also  to  be  remembered  —  and  too  great  in- 
sistence cannot  be  placed  upon  the  fact  —  that 
materialism  is  a  very  different  thing  to  those  who 
have  not  and  to  those  who  have,  to  those  who  are 
struggling  up  the  social  grade,  and  to  those  who 
are  on  the  secure  social  levels.  To  those  who  are 
in  want  and  in  the  struggle,  materialism  represents, 
not  merely  the  material  things  in  sight,  but  the 
things  which  lie  back  of  these,  within  reach  of  edu- 
cation and  culture.  The  constant  and  honest  con- 
tention of  labor  for  shorter  hours  and  higher  wages 
is  a  contention  for  better  homes,  for  better  access 
to  the  schools,  for  better  social  opportunities.  The 
materialism  of  the  ascending  classes,  in  sharp  dis- 
tinction from  that  of  the  stationary  or  descending 
classes,  stands  for  social  aspiration  which  may  have 


THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY  77 

in  it  no  little  of  moral  and  spiritual  quality.  One 
of  the  compensations  for  the  disastrous  economic 
effects  of  the  immigration  of  the  past  decade 
may  yet  appear  in  the  spiritual  capacity  of  the 
unknown  races  which  have  been  brought  here. 
The  public  schools  in  our  great  foreign  centers 
are  beginning  to  reveal  possibilities  of  a  renewed 
intellectual  and  spiritual  growth  on  the  part  of  the 
Nation. 

I  think,  however,  that  the  greatest  safeguard 
against  any  materialistic  tendencies  in  the  ad- 
vancing struggle  for  equality  is  to  be  found  in  a  cor- 
responding growth  of  the  spirit  of  altruism.  Not  a 
few  persons  within  the  knowledge  of  most  of  us 
have  already  reached,  through  most  satisfying 
experience,  "the  belief  that  our  highest  pleasures 
are  increased  by  sharing  them."  That  belief  has 
naturally  led  to  much  thought  for  others,  and  in 
the  case  of  those  far  below  the  range  of  all  pleas- 
ures, to  much  solicitude  and  eventual  sacrifice  in 
their  behalf.  The  altruism  of  our  time  is  learning 
how  to  express  itself  in  splendid  self-denials,  quite 
comparable  with  those  of  so-called  heroic  times  — 
young  women  foregoing  marriage  to  serve  the  chil- 
dren of  want  and  sin,  young  men  foregoing  the  op- 
portunities of  fortune  to  fight  in  the  warfare  against 
greed  and  lust  and  the  varied  cruelties  of  selfish- 
ness. The  altruistic  spirit,  which  is  really  the  spirit 


78  THE  GOAL  OF  EQUALITY 

of  equality  working  from  above  in  sacrifice,  is  the 
most  spiritual  force  of  which  we  have  personal 
knowledge  in  our  generation.  It  can  most  easily 
set  at  nought  the  temptations  of  materialism,  and 
find  satisfaction  in  human  rewards. 


IV 

NOTES  ON  THE   PROGRESS  OF  THE 
SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE 

THE  rise  of  the  social  conscience  was  at  first  re- 
garded in  the  light  of  an  ordinary  moral  awakening. 
It  was  referred,  perhaps  naturally,  but  certainly 
with  little  thought,  to  the  order  of  moral  and  spirit- 
ual phenomena  with  which  we  were  familiar  —  the 
anti-slavery  struggle,  temperance  reforms,  and 
revivals  of  religion.  Gradually,  however,  it  be- 
came evident  to  careful  observers  that  it  was  of 
quite  a  different  order,  that  it  was  more  nearly 
comparable,  if  comparisons  were  to  be  made,  with 
such  a  phenomenon  as  the  rise  of  the  spirit  of  na- 
tionality. The  spirit  of  nationality  was  not  a  revival 
of  the  spirit  of  race,  or  of  religion,  or  of  any  of  the 
traditional  forces  which  had  heretofore  been  domi- 
nant. It  sprang  out  of  its  own  environment.  It 
was  evoked  by  those  conditions,  social  and  political, 
which  marked  the  transition  from  feudalism  to 
democracy.  Once  evoked,  it  became  in  turn  crea- 
tive. Working  usually,  but  not  always,  in  coopera- 
tion with  the  spirit  of  liberty,  it  wrought  steadily 


80     PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE 

and  persistently  till  it  achieved  its  result  in  the 
nationalization  of  modern  Europe. 

To  what  extent  the  social  conscience,  called  into 
being  under  the  stress  of  present  social  and  eco- 
nomic conditions,  will  effect  a  like  reconstruction  of 
modern  society  must  be  a  matter  of  opinion  or  of 
faith;  but  this  much  is  now  evident:  its  aim  is  re- 
constructive as  well  as  reformatory.  It  has  already 
changed  in  large  degree  the  moral  tone  of  society. 
But  what  is  of  far  more  importance,  it  is  giving  us 
a  new  intellectual  perspective  through  which  we 
view  all  moral  issues  affecting  society.  It  has 
changed  the  angle  of  moral  vision  so  that  we  see 
the  same  things  differently.  The  remark  of  the 
Right  Honorable  A.  J.  Balfour  in  regard  to  the 
mental  change  effected  by  the  scientific  revolu- 
tion of  the  latter  part  of  the  nineteenth  century 
applies  with  almost  equal  pertinency  to  the  mental 
change  which  is  being  effected  by  the  present  social 
revolution:  "The  mental  framework  in  which  we 
arrange  the  separate  facts  in  the  world  of  men 
and  things  is  a  new  framework." 

In  the  following  notes  I  have  taken  account  of 
certain  movements  in  the  progress  of  the  social  con- 
science chiefly  within  the  field  of  economics  and 
politics.  In  other  fields  its  activities  have  been 
equally  marked  and  often  more  intense,  but  here 
there  are  clearer  signs  of  sequence  and  progress. 


PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE     81 

And  yet  I  would  not  overestimate  this  distinction. 
The  social  conscience  has  been  passing  through 
the  stage  of  knight-errantry.  It  was  not  to  be  ex- 
pected that  the  chivalrous  approach  to  social  issues 
would  be  altogether  constructive,  although  there- 
by opening  the  way  most  clearly  for  construc- 
tive methods.  The  actual  progress  which  it  has 
made  is  best  reflected  in  the  changes  wrought 
in  public  opinion.  There  lies  the  real  test  of  the 
moral  value  of  its  activities,  and  there  also  is  to 
be  found  the  best  measure  of  its  moral  develop- 
ment. Public  opinion,  as  the  governing  force  in 
modern  democracy,  is  the  objective  of  the  social 
conscience. 


FROM   CHARITY   TO   JUSTICE 

Apparently  the  social  conscience  sprang  into 
action  to  resist  the  encroachments  of  monopolistic 
wealth  upon  the  liberties  of  the  people.  That  was 
its  first  conspicuous  task.  But  it  was  not  the  begin- 
ning of  its  work.  Before  the  public  mind  had  been 
stirred  by  the  thought  of  monopolistic  wealth  as  a 
menace  to  liberty,  there  had  been  a  growing  sensi- 
tiveness and  concern  about  the  general  relation  of 
wealth  to  poverty.  It  was  not  true,  any  more  then 
than  now,  that  as  the  rich  were  growing  richer  the 


82     PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE 

poor  were  growing  poorer.  But  it  was  true  that, 
while  wealth  increased  rapidly,  poverty  remained 
a  constant  in  the  social  order.  The  new  social 
movement  had  for  its  immediate  object  a  change 
in  this  static  condition  of  poverty.  It  aimed,  not 
simply  at  the  relief  of  the  poor,  but  at  a  reduction 
of  poverty  itself  corresponding  at  least  with  the 
increase  of  wealth.  Starting  out  of  the  broad 
field  occupied  by  the  charities,  it  put  forth  as  its 
chief  principle  of  action  that  in  any  attempt  to 
solve  the  problem  of  economic  poverty,  the  stress 
should  be  laid  upon  justice  rather  than  upon 
charity. 

Charity  had  long  been  the  accredited  means  of 
communication  between  the  rich  and  the  poor. 
This  was  true,  not  only  of  private  charity,  but  of 
the  organized  charities.  The  Church  was  a  recog- 
nized almoner  of  the  rich.  Of  course  the  object  of 
charity,  especially  as  privately  administered,  was 
to  bring  the  rich  and  the  poor  together;  but  the 
increasing  effect  of  it  under  changed  economic 
conditions  had  been  to  separate  them  into  classes, 
to  add  to  the  number  of  the  poor,  and  to  confirm 
them  in  their  poverty.  The  new  movement  sought 
to  arrest  this  tendency  by  changing  both  the 
method  and  the  object  of  social  endeavor.  The 
contrast  between  the  old  and  the  new  was  thus  ex- 
pressed in  the  language  of  the  time:  the  old  sought 


PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE    83 

"to  put  right  what  social  conditions  had  put 
wrong,"  to  relieve,  that  is,  the  sufferings  incident 
to  existing  conditions;  the  new  sought  "to  put 
right  the  social  conditions  themselves." 

It  was  clearly  recognized  that  the  attempt  "to 
put  right  social  conditions"  involved  two  things, 
-  the  thorough  understanding  of  these  conditions, 
and  equally  the  cooperation  of  those  living  under 
them.  The  community  was  to  be  made  the  unit 
for  social  study  and  for  associated  effort.  A  neigh- 
borhood was  regarded  as  the  most  practicable  field 
possible  for  operation.  Every  neighborhood  in  a 
great  city  had  necessities  and  also  resources  of 
its  own.  It  had  its  own  inner  life.  Relief  might 
come  from  without,  but  reform  must  come  from 
within.  "Social  justice,"  a  term  then  first  em- 
ployed, must  have  its  counterpart  in  "community 
of  interest." 

The  movement  which  embodied  these  convic- 
tions found  definite  and  almost  spontaneous  ex- 
pression in  the  social  settlement.  With  a  zeal  and 
self-denial  which  had  been  the  almost  exclusive 
characteristics  of  missionary  enterprises,  many 
young  men  and  women  from  the  colleges  went  into 
residence  in  the  congested  districts  of  the  great 
cities,  to  study  at  first  hand  social  and  economic 
conditions,  to  awaken  the  neighborhood  spirit,  to 
organize  for  the  common  advancement,  and,  above 


84     PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE 

all,  to  give  personal  help,  stimulus,  and  coopera- 
tion. Residential  or  social  settlements  were  estab- 
lished in  rapid  succession.  Within  two  decades 
there  were  over  four  hundred  distributed  through 
two  thirds  of  the  States  of  the  Union.  Many  of 
them  soon  became  recognized  civic  centers.  Some 
of  them  assumed  national  interest  and  influence. 
As  a  body  of  cooperative  organizations  they  have 
made  contributions  of  rare  and  unique  value  to 
the  literature  of  social  and  economic  reform.  The 
investigations  carried  on  invariably  show  thor- 
oughness of  knowledge  and  sanity  of  judgment. 
The  settlements  have  become  recruiting  grounds 
for  the  manifold  agencies  of  social  service.  Not  a 
few  among  the  residents  have  been  called  to  posi- 
tions of  high  civic  responsibility.  It  is  not  too 
much  to  say  that  the  influence  which  emanated 
from  these  social  centers  has  been  the  leaven  of 
social  reform  in  our  cities.  Nor  is  it  too  much  to 
say  that  the  spirit  of  self-denial  and  sacrifice  which 
marked  this  inception  of  the  social  movement  must 
continue  to  characterize  it  if  it  is  to  remain  the 
exponent  of  the  social  conscience. 

I  have  recalled  this  initial  chapter  in  the  history 
of  the  social  movement  in  this  country  chiefly  to 
show  how  radical  a  change  has  been  brought  about 
in  the  public  mind  regarding  the  relation  of  wealth 
to  poverty.  In  1889,  Mr.  Carnegie  published  two 


PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE     85 

articles  in  the  "North  American  Review,"  which 
at  the  instance  of  Mr.  Gladstone  were  republished 
in  the  "Pall  Mall  Gazette"  under  the  title,  "The 
Gospel  of  Wealth."  This  term  had  been  used  inci- 
dentally by  Mr.  Carnegie  at  the  close  of  his  first 
article.  "Such  in  my  opinion  is  the  true  gospel 
concerning  wealth,  obedience  to  which  is  destined 
some  day  to  solve  the  problem  of  the  rich  and  the 
poor."  This  gospel  was  the  now  familiar  theory  of 
Mr.  Carnegie,  that  the  millionaire  should  regard 
himself  as  the  trustee  of  the  wealth  in  his  hands,  to 
be  administered  by  him  for  the  benefit  of  society, 
—  a  theory  to  which,  be  it  said  to  his  lasting  honor, 
he  has  clung  in  practice  with  fine  consistency  and 
splendid  optimism,  while  the  premises  upon  which 
it  rested  have  been  swept  away.  These  premises,  to 
quote  his  own  words,  were,  first:  "We  start  with  a 
condition  of  affairs"  (referring  to  the  present  eco- 
nomic system)  "under  which  the  best  interests  of 
the  race  are  promoted  but  which  inevitably  gives 
wealth  to  the  few" ';  and  second:  "The  millionaire 
will  be  but  a  trustee  for  the  poor,  entrusted  for  a 
season  with  a  great  part  of  the  increased  wealth  of 
the  community,  but  administering  it  for  the  com- 
munity far  better  than  it  could  or  would  have  done 
for  itself." 

In  the  general  acclaim  which  followed  the  an- 
nouncement of  this  gospel  the  premises  on  which 


86     PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE 

it  rested  were  almost  entirely  overlooked,  at  least 
in  their  economic  implications.  To-day  these 
economic  implications,  rather  than  the  gospel  it- 
self, are  foremost  in  public  thought  and  concern.  I 
know  of  no  community  which  would  now  be  willing 
to  accept  a  gift  from  Mr.  Carnegie  upon  condition 
of  subscribing  to  his  postulates.  The  consequences 
to  society  of  such  acceptance  are  everywhere  ap- 
parent. If  the  present  economic  system  must  "in- 
evitably give  wealth  to  the  few,"  then  socialism  is 
near  at  hand.  If  the  few  can  "administer  wealth 
for  the  community  far  better  than  it  could  or  would 
do  for  itself,"  then  democracy  has  reached  the 
limit  of  its  intelligence  and  responsibility. 

Doubtless  it  is  owing  to  Mr.  Carnegie's  theory 
of  the  function  of  wealth  that  he  is  not  taken  quite 
seriously  as  a  philanthropist.  His  public  gifts  are 
accepted  with  a  good  humor  corresponding  to  his 
own,  but  hardly  with  gratitude.  Whatever  may 
be  the  ultimate  effect  of  some  of  the  benefactions 
which  he  has  put  into  permanent  form  (the  good 
or  harm  to  society  depending  altogether  upon 
the  way  in  which  they  are  administered),  it  is 
evident  that  the  theory  lying  back  of  them  will 
expire  under  personal  limitations.  The  gospel  of 
the  millionaire  has  already  been  superseded  by 
the  law  of  social  justice  acting  through  social 
responsibility. 


PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE     87 
ii 

THE   STRUGGLE   WITH   MONOPOLY 

The  growth  of  monopoly  came  upon  the  people 
of  this  country  as  a  surprise  and  as  a  shock.  It  was 
a  surprise  because  it  had  been  assumed  that  monop- 
olies were  the  special  perquisites  of  a  monarchical 
government.  What  place  could  they  have  in  a 
democracy?  How  could  they  enter  in?  It  was  to 
be  learned  only  through  experience  that  a  democ- 
racy, established  in  a  rich  and  unexploited  country, 
might  become  a  fruitful  field  for  monopoly;  that  the 
bounty  of  nature  might  become  a  lavish  substitute 
for  royal  favor;  that  private  enterprise  might  reach 
larger  results  than  could  be  secured  by  intrigue 
or  preferment;  that  legislation  undertaken  in  the 
interest  of  prosperity,  as  under  certain  forms  of  the 
tariff,  might  leave  unguarded  many  places  for  the 
incoming  of  privilege;  and  that  combinations  ef- 
fected to  prevent  the  strife  and  waste  of  competi- 
tion might  produce  the  trust.  The  shock  of  this 
apparent  invasion  of  monopoly  was  due  chiefly  to 
the  sudden  increase  and  concentration  of  wealth. 
This  in  itself  was  sufficient  to  awaken  suspicion. 
But  what  especially  aroused  the  social  conscience 
was  the  arbitrary  exercise  of  power  and  the  osten- 
tatious display  of  luxury  which  attended  the  new 
wealth.  The  social  atmosphere  grew  thick  with  sus- 


88     PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE 

picion  and  distrust.  Not  a  few  of  those  who  seemed 
to  profit  most  by  the  changed  conditions  were 
looked  upon  as  "social  malefactors."  It  did  not 
seem  possible  that  so  much  wealth  could  be  ac- 
quired so  easily  and  so  quickly,  and  yet  honestly. 
Certainly  the  new  ways  of  gaining  and  of  spending 
money  were  not  in  keeping  with  the  traditional 
and  accepted  habits  of  a  democracy. 

There  was  at  first  a  sense  of  helplessness  in  the 
endeavor  to  stay  the  social  effects  of  so  much  cor- 
rupting wealth.  But  this  feeling  only  increased  and 
intensified  the  determination  to  get  at  the  causes  of 
the  sudden  and  vast  increase,  and  if  possible  to  ar- 
rest them  at  the  sources.  It  is  difficult  even  now  to 
determine  how  much  of  the  new  wealth  was  due  to 
monopoly.  But  investigation  showed  very  clearly 
that  far  too  large  a  proportion  of  the  national  re- 
sources had  passed  into  private  ownership  without 
any  equivalent  return;  that  gross  discriminations 
had  been  made  by  the  great  carrying  companies; 
that  combinations  of  capital  acting  in  restraint 
of  production  and  of  trade  had  gained  control  of 
various  kinds  of  business;  and  that  the  Gov- 
ernment itself,  through  tariff  legislation,  had  often 
become  a  party  to  privilege.  A  much  more  seri- 
ous fact  was  brought  to  light,  namely,  that  the 
spirit  of  monopoly  had  begun  to  take  possession  of 
the  business  mind  of  the  country.  It  was  no  longer 


PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE     89 

a  disgrace,  but  a  mark  of  enterprise,  to  acquire 
privileges.  Under  various  names  and  guises,  al- 
ways bearing  some  patriotic  stamp,  the  attempt 
was  constantly  made  to  gain  privileges  and  advan- 
tages through  the  State  or  Federal  Government, 
which  were  virtually  of  the  nature  of  monopoly. 

The  story  of  the  struggle  against  monopoly  is 
for  the  most  part  told  in  the  record  of  legislative 
enactments,  state  and  federal,  and  of  judicial  deci- 
sions. The  record  shows  remarkable  consistency 
and  tenacity  of  purpose.  The  struggle  has  been 
maintained  as  the  Government  has  passed  from  ad- 
ministration to  administration  and  from  party  to 
party.  It  has  been  not  only  consecutive  but  cumula- 
tive. An  amendment  to  an  anti-monopolistic  meas- 
ure has  nearly  always  been  more  drastic  than  the 
original  act.  As  the  occasions  for  conflict  with  open 
monopoly  have  passed,  the  spirit  of  conflict  has 
gone  over  into  the  search  for  monopolistic  tenden- 
cies, in  the  attempt,  to  quote  the  language  of  the 
President,  "to  kill  monopoly  in  the  seed." 

Within  the  sphere  of  federal  legislation  there  has 
been  direct  sequence  of  action,  from  the  Sherman 
Anti-Trust  Law  of  1890,  through  the  Interstate 
Commerce  Act  made  effective  by  the  amendment 
of  190G,  through  the  various  enactments  for  the 
conservation  of  the  national  resources,  to  the  more 
recent  acts  creating  a  Federal  Reserve  Board  to 


90     PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE 

restore  "democracy  of  credit,"  and  a  Federal  Trade 
Commission  to  attempt  the  restoration  of  free  com- 
petition in  business.  I  do  not  refer  to  the  tariff 
in  this  enumeration  because  tariff  legislation  must 
follow  the  swing  of  the  political  pendulum  until 
the  tariff  is  placed  on  a  non-partisan  and  scientific 
basis.  So  long  as  tariff  legislation  is  allowed  to  be 
reckoned  a  party  asset  it  can  have  little  moral 
significance.  Under  the  plea  of  "tariff  reform"  the 
Democratic  Party  came  into  power,  and  within 
two  years  the  cry  of  "tariff  and  prosperity"  very 
nearly  brought  back  the  Republican  Party  into 
power.  The  essential  tariff  reform  is  to  take  the 
tariff  out  of  politics.  An  income  tax,  the  necessary 
complement  of  tariff  reduction,  has  not  yet  been 
made  in  any  true  sense  a  democratic  measure.  Few 
will  question  the  justice  of  a  cumulative  tax,  even 
at  a  high  rate  of  progression,  but  surely  a  tax  is  far 
from  being  democratic  which  altogether  exempts 
the  vast  majority  of  property-holders,  reaching 
under  the  present  law  but  one  half  of  one  per 
cent  of  the  whole  population.  In  any  conscientious 
interpretation  of  democracy,  it  ought  to  be  as 
humiliating  to  the  average  citizen  to  be  exempted 
from  taxation  as  to  be  passed  over  in  the  call  to 
arms  for  the  defense  of  the  country. 

The  campaign  against  monopoly  produced  cer- 
tain indirect  results,  affecting  the  working  of  the 


PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE     91 

political  system  and  the  method  of  administering 
the  Government,  the  full  consequences  of  which  can- 
not as  yet  be  estimated.  It  gave  the  people  of  this 
country  what  English  writers  call  "the  sense  of  the 
State,"  -  not  necessarily  more  devotion  to  it,  but 
the  sense  of  its  power  as  a  political  instrumentality. 
The  attempt  of  the  people  to  make  use  of  the  powers 
of  the  State  against  the  encroachments  of  monop- 
oly showed  them  how  completely  they  had  been 
anticipated  in  the  use  of  these  powers  by  those  act- 
ing in  the  interest  of  various  monopolies.  Power- 
ful interests,  often  representing  non-resident  capi- 
tal, as  in  California  and  in  some  parts  of  the  West, 
had  gained  control  of  state  legislatures.  Suspicion 
was  rife  regarding  the  financial  legislation  of  the 
Congress.  It  was  charged  in  particular  that  the 
Senate  had  become  the  seat  of  privilege. 

The  evident  remedy  for  this  state  of  affairs  was 
to  prevent  the  possible  alliance  of  corrupt  politics 
with  corrupt  business.  Two  measures  were  de- 
vised for  the  accomplishment  of  this  purpose:  the 
primary,  to  do  away  with  the  party  manager  or 
"boss"  through  whom  political  deals  were  made; 
and  the  recall,  to  keep  the  official  representative  of 
the  people  within  their  reach  while  in  office.  Election 
to  the  United  States  Senate  was  taken  from  the 
state  legislatures  and  put  directly  into  the  hands 
of  the  people.  The  movement  for  more  direct 


92     PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE 

government  as  a  safeguard  against  monopoly  was 
widespread  and  gave  rise  to  a  vast  amount  of  po- 
litical experimentation,  much  of  which  still  awaits 
the  test  of  practicality.  Any  excess  of  political 
machinery  in  the  interest  of  reform  soon  defeats 
its  own  end  unless  a  suitable  corrective  can  be 
applied.  The  most  promising  corrective  for  present 
excesses  is  the  short  ballot. 

Of  much  more  importance,  however,  in  view  of 
future  possibilities,  is  the  change  which  was  ef- 
fected in  the  method  of  governmental  regulation 
—  the  change,  to  so  considerable  a  degree,  from 
general  control  by  the  courts  to  a  more  immediate 
supervision  by  commissions.  This  modification  or 
enlargement  of  the  federal  function  looks  beyond 
regulation  or  even  control,  and  opens  the  way, 
when  the  object  may  be  desired,  to  government 
ownership.  The  history  of  the  Interstate  Commerce 
Commission  shows  that  government  regulation  and 
control  by  commission  may  not  only  prepare  the 
way  for,  but  also  in  certain  contingencies  necessi- 
tate, government  ownership.  It  seems  improbable 
that  the  transportation  system  of  the  country  can 
be  carried  on  indefinitely  under  two  masters.  With- 
out doubt  the  commission  system  will  familiarize 
both  the  Government  and  the  people  with  the  idea 
and  with  the  methods  of  government  ownership. 
Without  doubt  also  it  may  help  to  develop  the 


PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE     93 

unexpended  national  resources  and  to  recover  some 
that  are  being  wasted  or  mismanaged  under  private 
control.  Occasions,  like  the  strikes  in  the  mine  in- 
dustries of  Colorado,  which  call  for  federal  inter- 
ference, suggest  very  forcibly  the  idea  of  federal 
operation  through  purchase  or  lease.  In  general 
it  may  be  said  that  the  struggle  against  monopoly 
has  tended,  and  still  tends,  to  make  larger  use  of  the 
Government  for  the  ownership  and  operation  of 
public  utilities.  The  chief  danger  in  this  tendency 
lies  in  the  displacement  or  disuse  of  some  of  the 
fundamental  functions  of  government.  So  con- 
sistent a  radical  as  John  Morley  remarks,  in  com- 
menting on  the  disturbance  of  the  judiciary  in 
a  constitutional  government,  "Weakening  confi- 
dence in  Parliament  would  be  formidable,  but 
confidence  destroyed  in  courts  of  justice  would 
be  taking  out  the  linchpin." 

in 

THE    VENTURE    INTO    "PRACTICAL   POLITICS" 

Perhaps  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  the 
newly  awakened  "sense  of  the  State"  would  be  sat- 
isfied with  changes  in  the  machinery  of  government 
allowing  a  freer  and  more  direct  use  of  govern- 
mental power  by  the  people.  The  field  of  practi- 
cal politics,  always  tempting,  offered  a  peculiarly 


94     PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE 

alluring  opportunity.  Both  of  the  existing  political 
parties  had,  for  different  reasons,  lost  the  full  con- 
fidence of  the  country.  The  Democratic  Party, 
long  out  of  power,  had  ceased  to  fulfill  the  real 
function  of  a  party  in  opposition.  The  Republican 
Party,  grown  arrogant  through  its  long  lease  of 
power,  and  showing  distinct  monopolistic  tenden- 
cies, had  become  the  object  of  much  popular  discon- 
tent. This  discontent  culminated  in  serious  inter- 
nal dissensions.  The  open  revolt  of  Mr.  Roosevelt, 
following  the  action  of  the  Chicago  Convention  of 
1912,  gave  promise  of  the  success  of  a  new  party, 
pledged  to  the  one  aim  of  social  justice,  under  the 
banner  of  a  leader  of  personal  magnetism  and  of 
tried  political  sagacity.  The  Progressive  Party  thus 
organized  drew  to  its  support  many  of  those  who 
had  long  been  at  work  in  various  ways  under  the 
stimulus  of  the  social  conscience.  In  the  enthusi- 
asm of  the  hour  it  seemed  to  them  advisable  to 
commit  the  issues  of  social  reform  to  the  fortune 
of  politics.  Great  confidence  was  placed  in  the  as- 
sumed analogy  between  the  formation  of  the  Pro- 
gressive Party  and  that  of  the  Republican  Party. 
It  was  believed  that  corresponding  results  would 
follow. 

The  confidence  placed  in  the  analogy  between 
the  Republican  and  Progressive  Parties  proved  to 
be  misleading  at  two  vital  points.  In  the  first  place, 


PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE     95 

the  Republican  Party  started  out  with  a  distinct 
and  commanding  issue,  an  issue  also  which  was 
pregnant  with  great  possibilities.  "No  more  slave 
States"  meant  a  clear  line  of  defense  against  the 
extension  of  slavery  and  involved  the  possibility 
of  its  extinction.  The  apprehension  of  this  fact 
by  both  North  and  South  made  war  itself  immi- 
nent. "Social  justice"  was  by  contrast  a  vague 
and  indeterminate  cause.  Restated  in  terms  of  spe- 
cific reforms,  it  lost  the  effectiveness  of  a  single  and 
imperative  issue.  Most  of  the  reforms  demanded 
were  matters  for  state  legislation.  Some  States  were 
far  in  advance  of  others  in  their  reformatory  work, 
notably  Massachusetts  among  the  older,  and  Wis- 
consin among  the  newer  States.  The  carrying  out 
of  social  reforms  through  legislation  required  much 
effort  to  overcome  popular  inertia,  as  also  at  times 
to  overcome  the  secret  opposition  of  private  and 
corporate  interests.  But  for  the  success  of  a  reform 
party  there  was  need  of  sharper  and  more  exciting 
antagonism.  In  fact,  it  was  soon  found  that  there 
could  be  no  political  monopoly  in  the  matter  of 
reform.  The  unexpected  moral  renaissance  of  the 
Democratic  Party,  with  its  own  progressive  pro- 
gramme, greatly  reduced  the  opportunity  of  a 
Progressive  Party.  In  this  political  exigency  it 
became  necessary  to  revert  more  and  more  to  the 
personal  and  political  issues  which  had  created 


96     PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE 

and  which  maintained  the  feud  in  the  Republican 
Party. 

In  the  second  place,  the  assumed  analogy  between 
the  leaders  of  the  respective  parties  at  their  forma- 
tion was  misleading.  Mr.  Lincoln  became  the  rec- 
ognized leader  of  the  Republican  Party  through  a 
process  of  moral  evolution.  Other  leaders  gradu- 
ally gave  place  as  his  supreme  qualifications  were 
made  clear.  But  his  leadership  was  essentially  moral 
rather  than  political.  His  rare  political  sagacity 
was  seen  to  be  the  practical  outcome  of  his  wis- 
dom and  rectitude.  His  moral  insight,  his  intense 
sympathies,  his  enduring  courage,  his  undaunted 
faith,  and  perhaps  more  than  these,  his  humility 
and  almost  infinite  patience,  made  him  the  leader 
he  was.  These  characteristics  may  be  said  to 
have  created  a  new  type  of  leadership.  Incapable 
of  self-assertion,  he  had  the  far  greater  power 
of  merging  his  whole  personality  in  the  cause  for 
which  he  stood,  and  the  equal  power  of  identifying 
himself  with  all  those  with  whom  he  was  called 
upon  to  act  and  to  suffer.  He  thus  became  the 
leader,  because  the  representative,  of  the  people 
in  their  hour  of  chastisement,  of  suffering,  and  of 
struggle.  In  the  striking  epitome  of  Mr.  Emerson, 
"He  was  the  true  history  of  the  American  people 
in  his  time.  Step  by  step  he  walked  before  them; 
slow  with  their  slowness,  quickening  his  march  by 


PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE     97 

theirs,  the  true  representative  of  this  continent; 
an  entirely  public  man ;  father  of  his  country,  the 
pulse  of  twenty  millions  throbbing  in  his  heart,  the 
thought  of  their  minds  articulated  by  his  tongue." 
Mr.  Roosevelt  is  at  least  different,  and  the  differ- 
ence marks  the  contrast  between  the  moral  and  the 
political  leader.  Mr.  Roosevelt  is  not  wanting  in 
great  moral  qualities.  He  is  broadly  and  genuinely 
human.  His  manifestations  of  regard  for  his  fellow 
men  are  no  affectation.  He  is  incorruptibly  hon- 
est, quite  immune  to  the  temptations  of  money.  He 
has  a  true  understanding  of  the  elemental  virtues. 
He  has  ideals,  held  fast  to  practical  uses  through 
a  saving  common  sense.  He  has  moral  as  well  as 
physical  courage.  He  can  fling  himself  with  conta- 
gious abandon  into  a  political  fight.  The  versa- 
tility of  his  personal  power  is  remarkable.  He  can 
do  almost  anything  with  himself  except  subordinate 
himself.  That  exception  marks  his  moral  limitation. 
When  men  or  causes  come  within  his  personal  en- 
vironment he  sees  them  primarily  in  their  relation 
to  himself.  Loyalty  or  disloyalty  to  him  defines 
their  character.  Hence  his  otherwise  inexplicable 
discrimination  between  political  bosses  of  the  same 
type.  Hence  his  lapses  in  the  maintenance  of  per- 
sonal friendships.  Hence  his  choice  of  the  specific 
issues  to  be  urged  in  a  political  campaign.  Mr. 
Roosevelt  is  not  to  be  characterized  as  a  selfish 


98     PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE 

man.  I  believe  him  to  be  as  capable  of  sacrifice  as 
of  heroism.  But  his  egoism  —  to  keep  to  the  point 
in  question  —  put  him  at  a  wide  remove  from  Mr. 
Lincoln  as  a  moral  leader.  It  made  quite  useless 
any  comparison  with  a  view  to  support  from  an 
assumed  historic  parallelism. 

Another  characteristic  of  Mr.  Roosevelt's  leader- 
ship in  contrast  with  that  of  Mr.  Lincoln  —  a  char- 
acteristic which  adds  to  his  attractiveness  as  a  polit- 
ical leader,  but  detracts  from  the  seriousness  of  his 
moral  leadership  —  is  his  sporting  instinct.  He  is 
the  sportsman  in  politics.  He  follows  the  game. 
He  plays  the  issue  which  has  the  immediate  politi- 
cal effect.  He  has  his  eye  constantly  on  his  antago- 
nists, who  for  the  time  are  his  "enemies."  These 
must  never  be  lost  sight  of,  though  principles  may 
be  retired  from  view.  Under  Mr.  Roosevelt's  direc- 
tion, the  New  York  Progressive  platform  in  the 
last  election  treated  of  Republican  bosses  rather 
than  of  Progressive  principles.  He  was  evidently 
more  than  willing  to  stay  the  march  into  the  Prom- 
ised Land  for  a  return  into  Egypt  to  unseat  the 
Pharaohs.  This  was  good  sport;  it  may  have  been 
good  politics;  it  was  not  moral  leadership.  Grant 
that  the  corrupt  or  reactionary  boss  is  a  vital  issue 
to-day  in  the  political  life  of  the  Nation,  as  is  cer- 
tainly true  in  some  localities;  then  evidently  the 
place  to  meet  the  issue  is  within  the  afflicted  party. 


PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE     99 

There  it  ceases  to  be  a  game  and  becomes  a  fight. 
When  Mr.  Roosevelt  left  the  Republican  Party  he 
gave  up  his  vantage-ground  as  a  political  in  dis- 
tinction from  a  social  reformer,  a  loss  of  which 
apparently  no  one  is  more  conscious  than  himself. 
Had  he  remained  in  the  party  it  is  hardly  presum- 
able that  he  would  have  been  a  negligible  quantity 
in  the  election  in  New  York,  or  that  he  would 
have  failed  of  his  contention  in  Pennsylvania.  The 
progressive  element  which  he  took  out  of  the  party 
might  have  been  employed  to  far  greater  advan- 
tage within. 

It  is  difficult  to  estimate  the  actual  moral  in- 
fluence of  the  Progressive  Party  because  of  the 
overshadowing  interest  or  curiosity  of  the  public 
regarding  its  effect  on  the  political  future  of  Mr. 
Roosevelt.  The  Progressive  Party  has  also  had  to 
reckon  with  the  fact,  always  to  be  reckoned  with 
in  the  appeal  to  politics  as  in  the  appeal  to  arms, 
that  the  moral  result  is  largely  affected  by  success 
or  failure.  Had  the  party  succeeded  unmistak- 
ably as  a  political  force,  its  power  of  moral  impres- 
sion would  have  been  greatly  enhanced.  To  the 
degree  in  which  it  has  failed  politically,  the  whole 
moral  movement  in  which  it  had  a  part  has  been 
prejudiced  in  the  public  mind,  because  of  its  in- 
sistent claim  to  be  the  exponent  of  the  social  con- 
science of  the  country.  At  present  it  seems  hardly 


100  PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE 

probable  that  both  of  the  controlling  parties  will  so 
far  defy  the  moral  sense  of  the  Nation  as  to  give 
occasion  for  a  third  party  committed  to  the  mainte- 
nance and  furtherance  of  social  justice.  The  an- 
tagonism of  Mr.  Roosevelt  to  Mr.  Wilson,  the  dis- 
affection of  the  business  interests  of  the  country, 
the  protracted  uncertainty  in  regard  to  Mexican 
affairs,  or  unforeseen  complications  in  the  foreign 
policy  of  the  Government,  may  lead  Republicans 
and  Progressives  to  unite  on  the  sole  issue  of  effect- 
ing a  change  in  the  administration;  but  even  in 
this  outcome  of  the  political  situation  it  may  be 
fairly  assumed,  so  great  has  been  the  advance  in 
public  opinion,  that  the  genuine  progressive  voter, 
whatever  his  party  affiliations,  will  continue  the 
contest  for  social  and  economic  reform,  as  the  in- 
dependent voter  of  the  earlier  part  of  this  genera- 
tion carried  on  the  contest  for  civil-service  reform, 
irrespective  of  party,  till  the  battle  was  won. 

[The  dissolution  of  the  Progressive  Party,  follow- 
ing the  attempt  to  revive  it  for  aggressive  serv- 
ice in  the  national  campaign,  has  exposed  very 
clearly  the  causes  of  internal  weakness  —  overcon- 
fidence  in  its  leader  and  the  undervaluation  by 
the  majority  of  the  real  cause  at  issue.  The  with- 
drawal of  Mr.  Roosevelt  after  the  substitution  of 
Americanism  for  social  justice  as  the  issue  of  the 
campaign,  left  the  party  without  further  reason 


PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE    101 

or  chance  for  political  existence.  The  progressive 
movement,  however,  divested  of  its  political  lia- 
bilities and  misuses,  may  continue  to  have  a  per- 
vasive and  powerful  influence  in  furthering  the 
ends  of  social  justice.] 


IV 
HUMANIZING   INDUSTKIALISM 

In  1857  John  Stuart  Mill  wrote,  "Hitherto  it 
is  quite  questionable  if  all  the  mechanical  inven- 
tions yet  made  have  lightened  the  day's  toil  of  any 
human  being.  They  have  enabled  a  greater  popu- 
lation to  live  the  same  life  of  drudgery  and  imprison- 
ment, and  an  increased  number  of  manufacturers 
and  others  to  make  fortunes.  They  have  increased 
the  comforts  of  the  middle  classes.  But  they  have 
not  yet  begun  to  effect  those  great  changes  in  hu- 
man destiny  which  it  is  in  their  nature  and  in  their 
futurity  to  accomplish." 

This  sweeping  indictment,  though  written  a 
half-century  after  the  inventions  which  gave  rise 
to  modern  industrialism  went  into  operation,  must 
be  accepted  to-day  with  very  large  modifications. 
And  yet  the  astonishing  fact  remains,  in  spite  of  the 
many  reliefs  of  labor,  and  in  spite  of  the  great  ad- 
vances in  convenience  and  comfort  brought  about 
by  mechanical  inventions  in  which  the  industrial 


102  PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE 

laborer  shares,  that  industrialism  is  the  prevailing 
and  persistent  cause  of  popular  discontent  in  a 
democracy. 

The  social  curse  of  industrialism  as  it  now  exists 
lies  in  its  effect  upon  the  disposition  and  temper  of 
industrial  workers.  It  has  taken  away  from  them 
the  zest  for  work,  than  which  nothing  is  more  neces- 
sary to  social  progress.  This  alienation  in  spirit  of 
the  man  from  his  work  is  as  evident  in  the  higher 
ranks  of  industrial  labor  as  in  the  lower  ranks.  The 
fact  in  itself  ought  to  be  allowed  to  make  its  due 
impression  before  considering  the  reasons  for  it. 
Whatever  may  be  the  causes  which  have  given  a 
distinct  character  and  tone  to  "the  mind  of  the 
wage-earner,"  the  fact  stands  out  that  his  "mind" 
is  the  most  difficult  mental  factor  to  be  brought 
into  right  relation  to  the  common  fellowship  of 
work. 

On  one  side  of  the  industrial  worker  is  the  pro- 
fessional or  clerical  worker,  usually  a  wage-earner 
or  salary-earner.  On  the  other  side  is  the  farmer  or 
independent  mechanic,  a  manual  worker.  Among 
these,  his  neighbors  and  fellow  workers,  there  may 
be  complaints  and  grievances,  but  no  common  dis- 
satisfaction over  the  work  in  hand.  On  the  whole 
the  common  characteristic  of  all  workers  outside 
industrialism  is  zest  for  their  work.  What  makes 
the  difference?  Why  has  industrialism  robbed  the 


PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE   103 

individual  and  society  of  this  inestimable  boon?  If 
the  social  conscience  is  to  act  effectively,  not  only 
for  the  physical  relief  of  the  industrial  worker,  but 
also  for  a  reform  of  the  spirit  of  industrialism,  the 
reasons  for  the  existing  state  of  mind  must  be  un- 
derstood. It  is  absurd  to  assume  that  the  industrial 
worker  has  an  inborn  aversion  to  work.  The  causes 
of  this  alienation  of  the  man  from  his  "job"  must 
lie,  not  in  him  but  in  his  environment. 

There  are  three  definite  if  not  altogether  justi- 
fiable reasons  for  his  attitude  and  spirit:  industrial- 
ism has  put  him  under  the  domination  of  the  ma- 
chine; it  has  subjected  him  to  various  conditions 
not  of  his  own  choosing;  and  it  has  deprived  him  of 
the  stimulus  and  incentive  to  private  ownership. 
Much  has  been  accomplished  to  modify  the  effect 
of  the  first  two  causes  of  discontent,  and  much  more 
is  in  the  process  of  accomplishment.  The  social 
conscience  is  growing  extremely  sensitive  to  the 
increasing  wear  and  tear  incident  to  employment 
under  machinery,  especially  upon  the  physical  life 
of  women  and  children.  On  their  own  account  and 
for  the  welfare  of  the  race,  it  is  seen  to  be  necessary 
that  the  most  careful  safeguards  be  established  and 
enforced  by  vigilant  supervision.  And  in  general 
it  is  seen  that  the  protection  of  the  worker  must 
keep  pace  with  the  inventions  which  intensify  the 
power  of  the  machine.  The  record  of  protective 


104  PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE 

legislation  is  encouraging,  and  it  is  also  suggestive 
of  the  practical  value  of  more  humane  conditions 
in  the  productive  industries. 

I  think  that  the  humanizing  of  industrialism,  so 
far  as  it  can  be  expressed  in  ways  of  relief  and  pro- 
tection, is  likely  to  be  achieved  by  the  common, 
though  often  unrelated,  efforts  of  those  most  con- 
cerned: by  the  foresight  of  the  wiser  employers, 
private  and  corporate,  by  the  steady  pressure  of 
trade-unions,  and  by  the  persistence  of  the  social 
reformers.  Among  these  agencies  the  most  uncer- 
tain is  the  employer  or  manager  of  labor.  At  a 
recent  meeting  of  the  Society  to  Promote  the  Sci- 
ence of  Management  one  speaker  remarked:  "The 
greatest  grievance  that  any  group  of  employees  can 
have  against  their  employers  is  lack  of  intelligence 
in  the  conduct  of  their  business.  The  man  who  as- 
sumes industrial  leadership  is  an  industrial  menace 
unless  he  makes  or  has  made  those  studies  which 
inform  him  as  to  the  vital  facts  of  his  business." 

According  to  authoritative  testimony  given  be- 
fore the  Federal  Industrial  Commission  it  is  not  re- 
garded as  the  business  of  the  directors  of  a  corpora- 
tion to  inform  themselves  as  to  the  facts  concerning 
the  conditions  of  labor.  Those  facts  are  delegated 
to  the  manager.  What  if  the  manager,  as  is  not  in- 
frequently the  case,  reflects  the  mind  of  the  direc- 
tor, a  mind  set  to  the  task  of  increasing  profits? 


PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE   105 

Manifestly  every  corporation  needs  for  its  own  in- 
telligent management  an  advocate  of  its  employees, 
a  kind  of  tribune  of  labor,  unless  it  proposes  to  rely 
on  the  labor-unions  to  correct  the  faults  of  its  ig- 
norance. 

But  in  the  broadest  sense  all  efforts  for  relief  and 
protection  are  relatively  negative  in  their  effects. 
They  do  not  reach  far  enough  into  human  nature  to 
touch  those  springs  of  desire  and  purpose  which 
make  the  daily  work  a  satisfaction  and  a  possible 
joy.  No  man  can  be  satisfied  with  his  work  who  is 
not  allowed  a  share  in  the  responsibilities  and  re- 
wards of  private  ownership.  Industrialism,  under 
present  conditions,  deprives  its  workers  of  this 
satisfaction.  It  makes  no  provision  for  their  indi- 
viduality. It  swallows  up  the  individual  in  the 
class,  leaving  him  in  just  complaint  over  his  un- 
satisfying lot.  And  the  most  disheartening  fact  is 
that  those  who  suffer  most  from  this  lack  in  in- 
dustrialism have  sought  for  compensating  equiva- 
lents rather  than  for  a  reform  of  the  system.  Trade- 
unionism  and  socialism  have  their  solutions  of  the 
problem,  but  neither  finds  a  solution  in  the  one 
consistent  means  of  increasing  satisfaction  with 
work.  Trade-unionism  finds  its  solution  in  shorter 
hours  and  in  higher  wages.  It  looks  primarily  to 
the  man  outside  his  work,  not  to  the  man  in  his 
work,  except  for  his  necessary  protection.  It  does 


106   PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE 

not  stimulate  to  the  highest  degree  of  excellence. 
In  this  respect  it  has  not  inherited  the  spirit  of 
the  guilds.  It  tolerates  mediocrity.  It  leaves  the 
question  of  standards  to  the  "boss."  I  do  not 
now  recall  any  public  mention  of  meetings  of  in- 
dustrial workers  in  any  trade  called  for  the  dis- 
cussion of  methods  of  bettering  the  product,  like 
those  which  are  frequently  held  by  agricultural 
workers. 

The  obvious  reply  may  be  made  that  under  the 
system  improvement  is  not  the  business  of  the 
union.  The  pertinence  of  this  reply  is  the  ground  of 
my  contention  against  the  present  working  of  the 
industrial  system.  For  trade-unionism  I  have  a 
profound  respect,  notwithstanding  its  shortcom- 
ings, and  in  some  cases  its  unpardonable  offenses. 
It  has  met  the  problem  of  industrialism  from  the 
side  of  the  wage-earner  as  nothing  else  could  have 
done,  and  has  given  him  rights  and  compensations 
which  could  have  been  gained  in  no  other  way. 
But  it  has  not  met  the  problem  of  industrialism 
from  the  side  of  the  wage-earner  as  a  man  who 
is  entitled  to  the  human  reward  of  his  work.  Its 
solution  is,  simply,  more  money  for  the  job  and 
more  time  outside  it.  The  work  still  remains 
drudgery. 

Something  more  may  be  said  for  the  socialistic 
solution.  The  socialist  demands  public  ownership. 


PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE   107 

This  solution  gives  the  industrial  worker  an  equal 
right  in  the  common  product,  and  it  distributes  the 
work  over  the  whole  body.  The  abolition  of  private 
property  means,  of  course,  the  enforced  equality  of 
manual  labor.  But  the  redistribution  of  work  will 
not  foster  the  love  of  it.  Work  is  still  drudgery  to 
be  minimized  only  by  its  wider  distribution.  The 
dissatisfaction  of  the  industrial  worker  is  reduced 
supposedly  in  quantity,  but  his  disposition  is  not 
thereby  changed.  Neither  can  public  ownership 
satisfy  or  eradicate  the  instinct  of  acquisition.  The 
right  to  private  property,  like  the  right  to  a  home, 
is  one  of  the  halting-places  where  we  stop  in  the 
surrender  of  our  individuality  to  the  collective  good. 
Without  doubt  we  yet  have  very  much  of  our  in- 
dividual holdings  to  surrender  for  the  good  of  so- 
ciety, from  which  surrender  every  one  will  receive 
a  return  in  the  way  of  an  investment.  Socialism 
has  made  many  justifiable  gains  at  the  expense  of 
what  had  become  an  unjustifiable  and  unremuner- 
ative  individualism,  but  there  is  an  irreducible  re- 
mainder to  be  accepted  and  honored  if  we  are  to 
preserve  our  individuality.  We  cannot  as  individ- 
uals give  up  the  right  to  love  and  the  right  to  work; 
and  the  right  to  work  means,  if  anything,  the  right 
to  the  incentives  and  satisfactions  which  belong  to 
work. 

I  think,  however,  that  socialism  rather  than 


108   PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE 

trade-unionism  holds  the  coming  alternative  re- 
garding industrial  labor  —  public  ownership  or  the 
opening  of  industrialism  in  larger  degree  to  private 
ownership.  No  one  can  overlook  the  relative  in- 
crease of  the  industrial  classes,  stimulated  alike 
by  capital,  by  inventions,  and  by  immigration,  or 
their  growing  separateness  in  matters  social  and 
political.  Socially  we  are  coming  nearer  to  one  an- 
other through  our  recreations  than  through  work. 
The  automobile,  for  example,  is  bringing  about  a 
noticeable  equality.  The  equality  of  the  road 
counts  for  a  good  deal  in  the  present  state  of  phy- 
sical restlessness.  But  motoring,  like  baseball  or 
any  other  recreation,  has  to  do  with  us  out  of  work 
hours. 

Our  work  may  yield  us  the  means  of  more  out- 
side enjoyment  without  increasing  in  the  least  our 
satisfaction  in  the  work  itself.  But  it  is  the  daily 
task,  with  its  rigid  requirements,  with  the  condi- 
tions it  imposes,  and  the  spirit  it  creates,  that  de- 
termines the  character  of  a  democracy.  If  we  are  to 
become  in  increasing  degree  an  industrial  democ- 
racy, it  will  be  the  industrial  factor  rather  than 
the  democratic  which  will  give  the  shaping  touch. 
Hence  the  concern  of  the  social  conscience,  far 
beyond  questions  of  relief  or  protection,  with  the 
problems  of  industrialism.  If  the  exclusion  of  the 
many  industrial  workers  from  the  field  of  private 


PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE     109 

property  means  the  probable  or  possible  shifting 
of  society  to  the  basis  of  collective  ownership,  it  is 
none  too  soon  to  ask  how  far  this  exclusion  is  es- 
sential to  the  working  of  the  system.  Must  the 
wage  be  accepted  as  the  sole  means  of  communi- 
cation between  capital  and  labor,  making  labor 
accessible  to  capital,  but  leaving  capital  inacces- 
sible to  labor?  Or  is  the  system  capable  of  ad- 
mitting such  supplementary  relations  as  will  allow 
to  labor  more  direct  access  to  management  and 
ownership? 

The  term  "share"  applied  to  the  corporate 
ownership  of  many  industries  has  a  suggestive 
meaning  at  this  point.  Without  doubt  the  wage 
was  as  great  an  advance  for  the  convenience  of 
industry  as  the  introduction  of  money  for  purposes 
of  trade  in  place  of  barter.  The  wage  is  a  well- 
defined,  clean-cut  agency  for  fixing  productive 
values  in  terms  of  labor.  It  has  an  educative  power 
over  the  laborer,  helping  him  to  measure  his  rela- 
tive worth.  It  relieves  him  from  certain  annoying 
responsibilities,  like  taxes,  incident  to  all  private 
ownerships,  even  the  least.  And  it  furnishes  him 
with  a  reasonably  stable  means  of  livelihood.  But, 
as  has  been  contended,  it  does  not  put  him  in  the 
right  attitude  toward  his  job,  chiefly  because  it 
does  not  appeal  to  the  instinct  of  acquisition.  An 
"interest"  in  the  business,  however  small  it  may 


110    PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL   CONSCIENCE 

be,  is  always  enough  to  change  one's  disposition 
toward  it. 

From  the  nature  of  the  case,  holdings  in  so-called 
industrials  are  different  from  agricultural  holdings. 
The  industrial  plant  cannot  be  divided  and  sub- 
divided like  landed  properties.  But  as  ownership 
in  the  industries  is  for  the  most  part  corporate,  — 
that  is,  collective,  —  there  is  no  inherent  reason 
why  it  should  not  be  made  accessible  to  those  who 
are  otherwise  necessary  partners  in  all  the  produc- 
tive activities  of  a  corporation.  Some  noteworthy 
experiments  have  shown  the  practicability  of  the 
principle,  such  as  the  rating  of  wages  for  a  given 
period  on  the  basis  of  stock  and  declaring  a  cor- 
responding dividend  to  the  wage-earner,  or  the 
offering  to  employees  of  stock  in  small  denomina- 
tions and  at  par,  whatever  may  be  the  premium. 
The  principle  of  allowing  wages  to  earn  an  interest 
in  the  business,  once  accepted  and  duly  provided 
for,  would  produce  a  direct  moral  effect  upon  the 
mind  of  the  wage-earner.  As  has  been  suggested, 
any  "interest,"  however  small,  would  effect  a 
change  of  disposition  and  temper.  But  the  prin- 
ciple admits  of  a  very  considerable  expansion  in 
the  more  stable  industries,  where  the  wage-earner 
is  reasonably  sure  of  permanent  work.  The  practi- 
cal result  should  keep  pace  with  the  growing  intel- 
ligence, skill,  and  thrift  of  the  wage-earner,  above 


PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL   CONSCIENCE     111 

all  with  his  more  efficient  attitude  toward  his  job. 
The  principle  of  scientific  management  may  be 
so  applied  as  to  prove  an  incentive  to  the  wage- 
earner.  The  fact  that  it  meets  with  so  much  op- 
position from  organized  labor  shows  the  difficulty 
either  of  making  the  principle  clear  or  of  operating 
it  with  scrupulous  fairness.  The  method  is  gaining 
in  favor  especially  in  the  larger  corporations.  In 
the  smaller  and  more  exclusive  businesses  the 
principle  of  cooperation  is  gaining  a  foothold  in 
this  country.  The  enormous  growth  of  coopera- 
tive production  in  European  countries  shows  how 
much  room  there  is  in  industrialism  for  experi- 
ments in  relief  of  the  deadening  effect  of  the  wage- 
system.  Industrialism  in  this  country  still  lacks 
that  courageous  initiative  on  the  human  side, 
through  which  the  mechanical  inventions  may 
be  made  to  effect,  in  the  prophetic  words  of  Mill, 
"those  great  changes  in  human  destiny  which  it  is 
in  their  nature  and  in  their  futurity  to  accomplish." 
The  time  has  come  to  expose  and  to  meet  in  prac- 
tical ways  the  fallacy  involved  in  the  much-used 
distinction  between  human  rights  and  property 
rights.  Human  rights  are  not  furthered  or  ad- 
vantaged by  the  suppression  of  property  rights. 
Human  rights  in  property  rights  have  yet  to  be 
recognized  and  satisfied.  There  lies  the  unfulfilled 
task  of  humanizing  industrialism. 


112    PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE 


THE  REINFORCEMENT  OF  THE  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE 
THROUGH  THE  ENTRANCE  OF  WOMAN  INTO 
CIVIC  LIFE 

The  development  of  the  social  conscience  has 
followed  in  the  main  the  course  of  its  activities, 
putting  forth  those  qualities  which  from  time  to 
time  have  been  called  for.  With  a  single  exception, 
no  new  factor  has  entered  into  this  process  of  devel- 
opment. That  exception  is  worthy  of  note  for  its 
influence  upon  the  character  and  efficiency  of  the 
social  conscience.  I  refer  to  the  entrance  of  woman 
into  the  responsibilities  and  opportunities  of  civic 
life.  This  entrance  of  woman  into  civic  life  has 
been  effected  quietly  but  rapidly,  while  society 
has  been  discussing  her  political  status.  In  fact 
it  may  be  said  to  have  made  suffrage  an  incident 
rather  than  the  goal  of  her  civic  progress.  Without 
doubt  it  has  worked  to  the  advantage  of  suffrage  in 
that  it  has  advanced  the  argument  from  the  stage 
of  rights  to  that  of  capabilities. 

So  long  as  the  movement  was  known  as  "woman's 
rights"  it  made  comparatively  little  headway,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  the  argument  from  rights, 
unvexed  by  questions  of  expediency,  was  really 
unanswerable.  If  suffrage  is  anybody's  right,  if, 
that  is,  the  political  obligation  or  privilege  is  of  the 


PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE     113 

nature  of  a  right,  it  is  not  logical  to  make  it  a  matter 
of  sex.  The  final  reference  of  the  question  to  physical 
force  —  the  right  to  vote  must  rest  on  the  ability 
to  fight  —  would,  if  insisted  upon,  withdraw  the 
ballot  from  all  men  unable  or  unwilling  to  fight. 
The  ballot  should  then  rest  on  conscription.  The 
compromise  frequently  suggested  —  that  women 
be  allowed  to  vote  when  the  majority  declare  them- 
selves in  favor  of  suffrage  —  has  this  to  commend 
it:  it  seeks  to  guard  against  the  danger  to  the  State 
from  the  extension  of  unoccupied  rights.  But  even 
this  danger  cannot  fairly  be  said  to  invalidate  the 
rights  of  the  individual  as  such,  whatever  others  of 
a  given  class  may  or  may  not  care  to  do.  It  simply 
raises  the  question  of  expediency.  The  danger  from 
unoccupied  rights  is  far  less  than  the  danger  from 
the  denial  of  rights. 

And  yet,  as  I  have  said,  in  spite  of  the  unanswer- 
ableness  of  the  argument  from  rights,  the  move- 
ment for  suffrage  made  little  headway  from  the 
force  of  the  argument  alone.  Militancy  would  have 
brought  it  to  a  standstill.  The  acceleration  of  the 
movement  for  woman's  suffrage  has  come  from  the 
demonstration  of  her  capacity  for  civic  life. 

This  capacity  has  resulted  in  large  degree  from 
the  educational  and  industrial  training  of  women. 
A  great  many  are  seen  to  be  fitted  for  doing,  and 
many  are  seen  to  be  doing,  the  very  things  for 


114    PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE 

which  it  has  been  assumed  that  suffrage  would 
prepare  the  way.  Their  example  has  had  the  two- 
fold effect  of  making  suffrage  seem  at  once  less 
necessary  and  more  logical;  certainly  it  has  made 
more  evident  the  inconsistency  of  denying  suffrage 
to  those  so  well  qualified  to  exercise  it.  Such  has 
been  the  effect  of  the  public  services  rendered  by 
the  residents  of  Hull  House  and  of  like  settlement 
houses  operated  by  women;  such  the  effect  of  the 
influence  of  many  women  in  official  positions;  such 
the  effect  of  the  executive  ability  displayed  by  cer- 
tain women  in  the  management  of  estates.  I  re- 
call a  remark  of  Judge  Theodore  W.  Dwight,  that 
the  decline  of  Rome  was  marked  by  the  transfer 
of  great  fortunes  to  the  widows  of  wealthy  men, 
who  became  thereby  the  prey  of  adventurers.  The 
like  transfer  of  fortunes  in  this  country  within  re- 
cent years  gives  a  striking  proof  of  progress,  dis- 
closing in  many  cases  an  equal  if  not  superior  com- 
petency on  the  part  of  women  in  dealing  with  the 
highest  uses  of  money.  A  glance  through  the 
"Woman's  Who  's  Who"  of  America  shows  both 
suffragists  and  anti-suffragists  to  be  in  agreement 
in  the  estimate  they  place  upon  civic  duties  and  in 
their  willingness  to  assume  them.  Whenever  and 
wherever  suffrage  comes  it  is  quite  sure  to  appear 
that  it  has  been  anticipated  in  many  of  the  civic 
responsibilities,  some  of  them  official,  at  which  it 


PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE    115 

aims  —  a  fact  which  ought  to  reduce  suffrage  to 
its  fit  proportion  in  the  general  advance  of  woman, 
and  likewise  take  away  any  fear  of  its  assumed 
unnaturalness  or  impracticability. 

Although  the  entrance  of  women  into  civic  life 
has  been  complicated  by  discussions  about  suffrage, 
it  has  had  a  most  stimulating  effect  upon  the  social 
conscience.  It  has  reinforced  the  social  conscience 
at  points  where  it  needed  strengthening.  Moral 
reform  is  quite  sure  to  suffer  from  the  lack  of  single- 
ness of  purpose  and  from  the  lack  of  persistence. 
The  average  citizen  is  willing  to  support  a  reform 
movement  if  it  does  not  conflict  too  much  with 
other  interests,  and  if  it  does  not  take  too  much  of 
his  time.  These  limitations  characterize  the  action 
of  most  men  in  business.  The  professional  anti- 
reformers  understand  perfectly  these  elements  of 
human  weakness  in  reform,  and  simply  give  them 
time  to  produce  their  effect.  There  has  been  a 
noticeable  change  in  the  spirit  of  civic  reforms  since 
women  became  more  directly  concerned  in  them. 
They  are  kept  to  their  purpose  and  held  to  their 
accomplishment.  The  charge  is  made  that  where 
women  have  the  right  to  vote  they  seldom  register 
in  full  numbers  for  general  elections.  Doubtless 
the  charge  is  true.  The  compensating  fact  appears 
in  the  definiteness  of  their  interests  and  in  their 
tenacity  of  purpose  when  their  interests  are  aroused. 


116    PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL   CONSCIENCE 

Any  one  who  follows  the  course  of  legislation 
must  take  note  of  the  vast  increase  of  legislative 
action  on  subjects  which  invite  especially  the  judg- 
ment, the  intelligence,  and  the  experimental  knowl- 
edge of  women.  The  widening  of  the  field  of  in- 
vestigation for  legislative  purposes  is  largely  in 
those  directions  in  which  women  of  trained  minds 
can  best  act  as  experts.  And  many  of  the  admin- 
istrative positions  created  within  this  widening 
field  under  legislative  supervision  can  best  be  filled 
by  women. 

I  am  well  aware  of  the  protest  which  may  be 
made  at  this  point  in  behalf  of  the  home  and  its 
duties,  and  I  am  in  sympathy  with  its  intent.  But 
there  are  two  considerations  to  be  kept  in  mind 
when  this  protest  is  unduly  urged.  In  the  first  place 
it  is  unfair  to  the  individual  woman  and  to  society 
to  hold  all  women  in  reserve  for  duties  which  may 
never  come  to  some  of  them.  It  is  of  no  advantage 
to  the  home  to  keep  up  a  large  waiting-list  of  un- 
occupied women.  Marriage  has  the  acknowledged 
right  of  way.  There  are  very  few  occupations  which 
cannot  be  adjusted  to  its  requirements,  or  which 
will  not  be  surrendered  on  its  demands.  And  in  the 
second  place,  many  civic  duties  are  in  no  way  in- 
compatible with  those  of  the  home.  They  are  in  fact 
simply  an  extension  of  these  duties.  The  question  of 
the  use  of  time  is  very  largely  personal.  In  most 


PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL   CONSCIENCE    117 

families  allowance  is  made  for  reading,  recrea- 
tion, and  the  various  social  conventions.  The  vast 
amount  of  time  consumed  in  "bridge,"  for  exam- 
ple, has  been  taken  from  the  home,  rather  than 
from  the  school,  the  office,  the  factory,  or  the  store. 
There  seems  to  be  no  sufficient  reason  for  arrest- 
ing the  progress  of  women  at  the  line  of  civic  duties. 
Doubtless  here  as  elsewhere  there  is  a  good  deal 
to  be  learned  about  wise  economies  of  time  through 
the  incoming  of  new  interests  into  the  daily  We. 

The  statement  was  made  at  the  beginning  of  this 
article  that  the  actual  progress  of  the  social  con- 
science is  best  reflected  in  the  changes  brought 
about  in  public  opinion.  In  any  candid  review  of 
its  progress,  even  within  the  limits  of  those  move- 
ments which  have  been  under  discussion,  it  will  ap- 
pear, I  think,  that  the  social  conscience  has  done 
very  much  to  refurnish  the  public  mind  with  ideas 
and  principles,  and  with  conceptions  of  duty,  fit 
and  adequate  to  the  new  demands  of  society.  In 
particular  it  may  be  claimed  that  it  has  reinstated 
the  conception  of  justice  above  that  of  charity  in 
the  ethics  of  philanthropy;  that  it  has  recalled  lib- 
erty to  a  service  in  behalf  of  economic  freedom  sim- 
ilar to  that  rendered  in  behalf  of  political  freedom; 
that  it  has  awakened  a  "sense  of  the  State"  cor- 
responding to  the  increase  of  political  responsi- 


118     PROGRESS  OF  SOCIAL  CONSCIENCE 

bilities;  that  it  has  made  society  sensitive  to  the 
inhumanities  of  industrialism,  and  is  teaching  so- 
ciety how  to  estimate  the  property  rights  which 
are  involved  in  human  rights;  and  that  it  is  creating 
an  open  mind  toward  the  entrance  of  woman  into 
civic  life.  This  retrospect,  bringing  to  mind  the 
changes  in  public  opinion  effected  by  the  social 
conscience,  may  have  a  timely  significance  if  it  shall 
give  us  any  ground  to  hope  that,  when  the  con- 
science of  the  nations  has  been  fully  aroused, 
changes  may  be  effected  in  the  public  opinion  of 
the  world  which  shall  guarantee  the  restoration  of 
peace  and  the  renewal  of  civilization. 


V 

THE  ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF 
THE  WAR 


THE  moral  policy  of  Germany  is  as  well  defined 
and  as  aggressive  as  its  military  policy.  They  are 
in  fact  one  and  the  same  thing.  Germany  at  once 
projected  into  the  war  its  own  political  morality, 
the  morality  of  power.  Both  in  diplomacy  and  on 
the  field  the  nation  has  acted  with  entire  moral  con- 
sistency. It  may  be  a  debatable  question  whether 
the  political  morality  of  Germany  was  or  was  not 
the  direct  cause  of  the  war,  but  without  dispute  it 
has  given  to  the  war  its  very  marked  and  peculiar 
ethical  significance.  It  has  caused  it  to  assume  the 
character  of  an  ethical  challenge.  Militarism,  the 
distinctive  term  of  the  present  war,  means  in  the 
last  analysis  not  so  much  the  assertion  or  over- 
assertion  of  military  force  as  the  assumption  of 
moral  prerogative.  Beneath  armaments  and  or- 
ganization lies  the  political  theory  on  which  mil- 
itarism rests  and  from  which  it  draws  its  life:  the 
State  is  power. 

In  order  to  measure  the  full  force  of  this  ethical 


120    ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR 

challenge  of  the  war,  as  it  reaches  us,  we  need  to 
revert  to  the  state  of  mind  out  of  which  it  springs. 
The  actual  justification  of  the  war  on  the  part 
of  Germany,  that  underlying  justification  of  it 
which  sustains  and  supports  the  German  people  as 
the  war  proceeds,  is  to  be  found  in  the  sincerity  and 
in  the  assumed  validity  of  the  claim  to  a  superior 
type  of  civilization,  culminating  in  the  State.  The 
obligation  which  this  claim  is  supposed  to  carry 
with  it  has  been  accepted  in  the  mood  of  exalted 
passion.  The  destiny  of  the  nation  prescribes  its 
duty.  This  can  be  nothing  less  than  to  supplant 
Anglo-Saxon  civilization  as  no  longer  entitled  to 
leadership,  no  longer  equal  to  the  burdens  or  to  the 
tasks  of  the  modern  world.  It  lacks  virility  and  it 
lacks  vision.  It  is  incapable  of  solving  the  new  prob- 
lems of  civilization.  The  time  has  come  for  it  to 
give  way  before  Teutonic  methods  and  ideals.  War 
only  hastens  the  inevitable,  and  saves  the  world  the 
wastes  of  delay. 

Those  who  are  familiar  with  Chamberlain's 
"Foundations  of  the  Nineteenth  Century"  (which, 
after  passing  through  eight  editions  in  Germany, 
was  presented  in  1909  to  English  readers)  will  re- 
call the  author's  extraordinary  exploitation  of  the 
Teutonic  race  as  the  essential  force  in  human  prog- 
ress. The  claim  to  superiority  which  was  then  set 
forth  in  broad  and  inclusive  terms,  with  pliilosoph- 


ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR    121 

ical  temper,  was  at  the  same  time  being  urged  by  a 
group  of  intellectual  leaders  in  Germany  with  ve- 
hemence and  with  exclusive  application  to  the  Ger- 
man people.  What  seemed  at  first  to  be  the  doctrine 
of  a  cult  became  in  due  time  the  accepted  truth  of 
a  whole  people.  I  am  aware  that  certain  German 
apologists  minimize  the  influence  of  this  school  of 
thought.  Some  of  them  assert  that  the  names  of 
its  leaders  are  practically  unknown  in  Germany. 
This  might  well  be,  though  in  fact  it  is  doubtful, 
and  yet  the  leaven  of  their  thought  might  pervade 
the  nation.  Judging  from  the  formal,  and  still  more 
from  the  almost  unconscious  utterances  of  the  peo- 
ple, such  at  least  appears  to  be  the  fact.  When 
Germany  speaks  her  mind  officially  or  unofficially, 
she  speaks  in  the  language  and  with  the  accent  of 
superiority.  As  we  pass  out  of  the  range  of  purely 
diplomatic  explanations  regarding  the  causes  of 
the  war,  the  plea  of  self -defense  quickly  disappears, 
lost  in  its  own  inconsistency;  and  the  plea  of  na- 
tional necessity  with  a  view  to  expansion  is  soon 
merged  in  the  claim  to  supremacy.  It  is  indeed 
singular  that  the  clearest  and  ablest  writers,  who 
contend  for  a  place  of  equality  with  England  in 
world-relations,  should  so  generally  weaken  their 
argument  by  their  insistence  in  the  end,  not  upon 
equality,  but  upon  supremacy.  Nearly  every  pres- 
entation of  the  case  of  Germany  reverts  soon  or 


122    ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR 

late  to  the  claim  to  superiority,  which  through  the 
stimulus  of  militarism  has  been  converted  into  the 
terms  of  actual  warfare. 

As  no  one  can  doubt  the  absolute  sincerity  with 
which  the  claim  to  superiority  is  put  forward,  few, 
I  think,  will  be  disposed  to  deny  that  it  has  a  cer- 
tain justice  when  tested  by  the  standards  of  our 
modern  material  civilization.  I  know  of  no  nation 
that  would  be  willing  to  subject  itself  to  a  compari- 
son with  the  Germany  of  the  last  forty  years  in  re- 
spect to  organization,  industrial  progress,  economic 
efficiency,  and  the  practical  applications  of  the 
sciences.  These  advances  stand  to  the  credit  of 
Germany  apart  from  their  relation  to  militarism; 
apart,  that  is,  from  what  they  have  done  toward 
making  war  the  grand  science,  the  magnificent  in- 
dustry, under  the  guise  of  armed  peace.  But  it  is 
through  militarism  that  the  claim  to  superiority 
passes  over  into  the  right  of  superiority,  and  the 
right  of  superiority  becomes  the  right  of  dominion. 
This  is  not  the  bald  reassertion  of  the  ancient 
dogma  that  might  makes  right.  The  injection  of 
the  idea  of  superiority  tempers  the  original  dogma, 
but  it  brings  it  again  into  service  without  essen- 
tially changing  its  ethical  character.  It  would  be 
unfair  to  say  that  this  modified  form  of  the  doctrine 
is  new.  It  was  in  fact  introduced  through  Anglo- 
Saxon  civilization.  It  has  done  its  duty  faithfully 


ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR    123 

in  the  interest  of  British  imperialism.  True,  its 
language  has  been  evasive  and  apologetic.  We 
are  familiar  with  its  characteristic  phraseology  — 
"benevolent  assimilation,"  "the  white  man's  bur- 
den," and  the  like.  But  the  fact  is  not  to  be  denied 
that  the  doctrine  has  been  held  and  practiced  by 
those  now  in  contention  against  the  present  asser- 
tion of  it.  Be  that,  however,  as  it  may,  our  con- 
cern with  the  present  assertion  of  it  lies  in  the  fact 
that  it  comes  to  us  as  a  challenge,  a  challenge  de- 
signed to  unmask  the  hypocrisy  of  opposing  na- 
tions, but  also  intended  to  set  before  all  nations  the 
ethical  authority  of  a  new  and  higher  type  of  civili- 
zation which  finds  its  normal  expression  in  the 
power  of  the  State.  Evidently  it  is  the  challenge  of 
the  half-truth,  but  for  that  reason  all  the  more  ef- 
fective as  a  challenge.  The  half-truth  is  capable  of 
an  audacity  which  is  denied  the  truth  in  its  fullness. 
It  can  urge  its  demands  without  qualification  and 
with  little  regard  to  consequences. 

This  contention  of  the  half-truth  that  superiority 
gives  the  right  to  dominion,  a  right  to  be  incorpo- 
rated into  the  State,  has  become  in  a  very  distinct 
way  the  ethical  challenge  of  the  war.  Whatever  the 
war  may  or  may  not  declare  in  regard  to  other  mat- 
ters, it  calls  the  attention  of  the  civilized  world  to 
the  new  moral  valuation  which  it  puts  upon  the 
power  of  the  State.  Tracing  the  war  back  to  the 


124    ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR 

teachings  in  which  it  had  its  origin,  we  find  in  them 
the  constant  idealization  of  power,  at  times  almost 
the  deification  of  it.  The  most  authoritative  teach- 
ings have  been  only  an  ampler  statement  of  the 
Machiavellian  axiom  that  the  State  is  power. 
"The  highest  moral  duty  of  the  State  is  to  increase 
its  power."  "War  is  the  mighty  continuation  of 
politics."  "Of  all  political  sins  that  of  weakness  is 
the  most  reprehensible  and  the  most  contemptible; 
it  is  in  politics  the  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost."  It 
will  give  a  proper  background  to  these  teachings  to 
have  in  mind  Milton's  conception  of  the  State:  "A 
nation  ought  to  be  but  as  one  huge  Christian  per- 
sonage, one  mighty  growth  or  stature  of  an  honest 
man,  as  big  and  compact  in  virtue  as  in  body,  for 
look,  what  the  ground  and  causes  are  of  single 
happiness  to  one  man,  the  same  ye  shall  find  them 
to  be  to  a  whole  State." 

The  question  of  the  essential  morality  of  power 
when  ^embodied  in  the  State,  which  is  thrust  upon 
us  as  the  ethical  challenge  of  the  war,  is  the  most 
serious  public  question  which  we  have  to  face. 
Coming  before  us  as  a  challenge,  it  calls  us  back  to 
things  fundamental,  both  in  politics  and  in  religion. 
To  reverse  in  part  Mr.  Cleveland's  saying,  we  find 
ourselves  confronted,  not  so  much  by  a  condition, 
appalling  as  that  is  in  which  all  nations  are  now 
involved,  as  by  a  theory  which  is  likely  to  outlive 


ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR    125 

the  war,  whatever  may  be  its  fortune,  and  to  pre- 
sent itself  to  each  nation  for  definition.  It  is  a  theory 
which  has  a  most  insidious  fascination.  There  is 
no  allurement  so  great  when  the  mind  turns  to  af- 
fairs of  state  as  the  allurement  of  power.  Clothe 
the  bare  conception  of  power  with  the  moral  sanc- 
tities and  it  becomes  not  only  alluring  but  com- 
manding. In  this  form  it  presents  itself  to  us,  and 
at  a  time  of  great  doubt  and  perplexity  in  regard 
to  subjects  but  lately  in  the  category  of  common- 
place realities,  —  democracy,  patriotism,  and  re- 
ligion. Speaking  with  the  assurance,  if  not  with 
the  audacity,  of  the  half-truth,  it  says  to  us,  Your 
democracy,  your  patriotism,  your  religion  are  ob- 
solete. They  are  all  guilty  of  inadequacy.  If  you 
would  keep  your  place  in  the  modern  world,  you 
must  recast  your  fundamental  conceptions  of  the 
State,  and  of  the  things  which  belong  to  it,  in  terms 
of  power,  and  reinvigorate  them  with  its  spirit. 

ii 

What  is  the  state  of  the  case  in  regard  to  democ- 
racy? Has  it  ceased  to  be  a  necessary  factor  in  the 
social  and  political  order  of  the  world?  Is  it  no 
longer  adequate  in  theory,  or  has  it  gone  so  far 
wrong  in  practice  as  to  be  useless?  Let  us  see  how 
it  appears  to  an  observer  who  looks  upon  present 
conditions  from  the  new  point  of  view.  I  quote 


126    ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR 

from  Professor  Francke  in  a  recent  number  of  the 
"Harvard  Monthly."  "The  German  conception  of 
the  State  and  its  mission,  and  of  the  service  due  to 
it,  is  something  which  to  members  of  other  nation- 
alities, especially  to  Anglo-Saxons  and  Americans, 
cannot  help  appearing  as  extravagant  and  over- 
strained. To  the  Anglo-Saxon  and  American  the 
State  is  an  institution  for  the  protection  and  safe- 
guarding of  the  happiness  of  individuals.  To  the 
German  it  is  a  spiritual  collective  personality,  lead- 
ing a  life  of  its  own  beyond  and  above  that  of  indi- 
viduals, and  its  aim  is  not  the  protection  of  the 
happiness  of  individuals,  but  their  elevation  to  a 
nobler  type  of  manhood,  and  their  training  for  the 
achievement  of  great  common  tasks  in  all  the 
higher  concerns  of  life  —  in  popular  education,  in 
military  service,  in  commercial  and  industrial  or- 
ganization, in  scientific  inquiry,  in  artistic  cul- 
ture." 

This  is  not  the  language  of  challenge,  or  even  of 
criticism,  but  of  courteous  comparison.  The  impli- 
cation, however,  is  equally  plain,  that  democracy 
does  not  require  that  surrender  of  the  individual 
to  the  State  which  can  enable  the  State  in  turn  to 
perform  the  various  functions  in  his  behalf  which 
Professor  Francke  enumerates.  The  implication 
is  true,  but  it  is  the  half-truth.  We  reach  the  truth 
as  we  ask  why  democracy  does  not  require  or  even 


ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR    127 

allow  that  surrender  of  the  individual  to  the  State 
which  is  here  demanded. 

But  before  we  ask  this  question,  let  us  take  the 
full  rebuke  of  the  half-truth.  Democracy,  in  this 
country  at  least,  has  not  trained  its  citizens  in  the 
proper  conception  of  their  personal  relation  to  the 
State.  We  are  at  fault  in  our  political  manners  and 
in  our  political  morals.  We  have  not  learned  to  pay 
that  respect  to  the  State  which  ought  to  differ  only 
in  degree  from  reverence.  We  lack  the  imagina- 
tion to  clothe  the  State  with  personality.  We  fail 
to  recognize  at  their  full  value  its  symbols  of  au- 
thority. We  do  not  instantly  and  reverently  rec- 
ognize its  essential  majesty  as  embodied  in  law. 
In  a  word,  our  political  manners  are  as  yet  un- 
formed. More  serious  still  is  the  undeveloped  state 
of  our  political  morals,  as  evidenced  in  the  tendency 
to  regard  the  State  as  a  legitimate  source  of  privi- 
lege and  monopoly.  There  is  not  the  same  moral 
sensitiveness  in  the  dealings  of  individuals  with 
the  State  as  in  the  conduct  of  business  between 
individuals.  The  attempt  is  not  infrequently  made 
to  put  the  State  to  corrupt  and  shameless  uses. 
Democracy  may  fairly  be  held  responsible  for  this 
moral  crudeness  in  so  far  as  it  has  failed  to  bring 
the  individual  into  morally  sensitive  relations  to 
the  State.  We  have  been  paying  the  penalty  for 
the  lack  of  this  training  in  our  struggle  with 


128    ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR 

monopoly  for  the  past  decade.  It  is  due  in  good 
part  to  this  deficiency  that  we  have  had  to  resort 
to  the  transfer,  to  so  considerable  an  extent,  of  the 
State  from  an  individualistic  to  a  socialistic  basis. 
The  transfer  has  come  about  in  the  process  of 
protecting  the  State  itself,  as  well  as  the  people 
at  large,  from  the  thoughtlessness  and  greed  of  un- 
trained individualism. 

It  is  useless  to  deny  that  some  of  our  social  and 
political  ills  are  due  to  the  laxity  or  the  selfishness 
of  our  democratic  conception  of  the  State.  We  do 
well  to  heed  the  challenge  of  absolutism  to  democ- 
racy, as  it  uncovers  faults  both  in  theory  and  prac- 
tice; but  we  may  not  hesitate  for  a  moment  to 
accept  the  challenge  in  behalf  of  democracy.  The 
sin  of  democracy  is  laxity;  the  sin  of  absolutism  is 
tyranny.  The  remedy  for  the  one  is  reform;  the 
only  remedy  for  the  other  is  revolution.  The  sub- 
jection of  the  individual  to  the  State  may  indeed 
come  about  through  self-surrender.  That  was  the 
method  by  which  the  mediaeval  Church  absorbed 
the  rights  of  the  individual  in  the  realm  of  faith. 
Self -surrender  secured  the  guaranty  of  the  Church 
for  salvation.  The  State  under  absolutism  assumes 
to  guarantee,  on  like  conditions,  political  security, 
economic  gains,  cultural  development — everything, 
in  fact,  save  liberty.  And  for  the  satisfactions  of 
liberty  it  offers,  through  the  spirit  of  militarism, 


ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR    129 

the  intoxication  of  power.  So  a  nation  may  be- 
come self -intoxicated.  "Not  against  our  will  and 
as  a  nation  taken  by  surprise  did  we  hurl  ourselves 
into  this  adventure.  We  willed  it.  It  is  Germany 
that  strikes.  When  she  has  conquered  new  domains 
for  her  genius,  then  the  priesthood  of  all  the  gods 
will  praise  the  God  of  War." 

It  may  have  required  such  an  illustration  of  the 
outworking  of  the  theory  —  the  State  is  power  — 
as  is  afforded  by  the  present  exhibition  of  milita- 
rism, to  enable  some  minds  to  understand  the  real 
significance  of  the  contrasted  theory  of  the  State 
expressed  in  the  cardinal  maxim  of  democracy  — 
the  State  is  freedom.  Without  doubt  there  has 
been  a  decline  in  the  enthusiasm  for  democracy. 
Democracy  has  suffered  in  proportion  to  the  growth 
of  economic  inequality.  Many  have  been  disap- 
pointed that  it  has  not  produced  results  in  the 
economic  world  equivalent  to  those  which  it  pro- 
duced in  the  political  world.  The  war  has  brought 
us  back  to  a  revaluation  of  political  freedom.  We 
are  forced  by  it  to  the  conclusion  that  though  it 
may  be  difficult  to  provide  for  the  securities  of  free- 
dom under  democracy,  it  is  impossible  to  guaran- 
tee its  existence  under  absolutism.  Democracy  may 
be  lax  in  the  use  of  the  power  of  self-defense  en- 
trusted to  the  State,  but  the  full  power  is  always  in 
reserve.  There  is  no  reasonable  excuse  for  "un- 


130    ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR 

preparedness."  The  safeguard  against  militarism 
does  not  lie  in  our  indifference  to  the  means  of  na- 
tional security.  On  the  contrary,  any  sudden  sense 
of  insecurity,  such  as  is  often  created  by  interna- 
tional emergencies,  is  quite  sure  to  evoke  the  most 
extreme  and  foolish  type  of  militarism.  Prepared- 
ness is  simply  a  common-sense  adjustment  of  a 
nation  to  its  environment.  It  is  in  no  sense  incom- 
patible with  the  spirit  of  democracy.  Switzer- 
land, notwithstanding  the  apparently  impregnable 
guaranties  of  its  neutrality,  has  a  complete  and 
almost  perfect  system  of  national  defense  in  which 
every  able-bodied  man  from  twenty  to  sixty  bears 
his  part.  Nowhere  is  the  spirit  of  anti-militarism 
more  assured.  The  danger  from  national  pre- 
paredness lies  in  the  national  temptations,  or  in 
the  national  ambitions.  The  danger  is  moral,  not 
physical.  The  means  of  defense  cannot  be  changed 
into  the  means  of  aggression  except  through  a  change 
in  the  spirit  of  a  people.  Such  a  change  is  quite 
possible,  but  the  possibilities  of  it  are  best  calculated 
as  we  try  to  measure  that  play  of  national  impulses 
to  which  we  accord  the  name  of  patriotism. 

in 

If  we  find  in  the  war  a  direct  challenge  to  democ- 
racy on  the  ground  of  political  inadequacy,  we  can 
see  that  it  compels  attention  with  almost  equal 


ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR    131 

directness  to  the  moral  liabilities  of  patriotism. 
Among  moral  forces  related  to  the  State,  patriot- 
ism must  be  regarded  as  the  most  inconsistent  in 
its  action,  now  the  watchful  servant  of  liberty  and 
now  the  blind  instrument  of  power.  It  is  therefore 
liable  to  become  at  any  time  a  disturbing  factor  in 
international  morality. 

The  ordinary  traditions  of  patriotism  are  so 
great  and  inspiring  that  these  alone  occupy  our 
minds.  Some  of  the  greatest  and  most  inspiring 
of  those  belonging  to  western  Europe  and  Amer- 
ica have  not  passed  out  of  the  personal  remem- 
brances of  men  now  living.  The  period  from  1859 
to  1871  was  distinctly  an  era  of  patriotism.  Almost 
within  the  limits  of  a  decade  three  events  took  place 
which  mightily  stirred  the  peoples  immediately  con- 
cerned, and  awakened  the  sympathetic  interest  of 
all  peoples  bred  in  the  traditions  of  liberty  —  the 
Restoration  of  Italy,  the  Reunion  of  the  United 
States,  and  the  Unification  of  Germany.  The  names 
inseparably  connected  with  these  events,  Cavour, 
Lincoln,  and  Bismarck,  illustrate,  with  due  allow- 
ance for  the  personal  variant,  the  type  of  patriotism 
exemplified  in  the  historic  struggles  for  freedom 
and  nationality. 

And  yet,  with  these  examples  uppermost  in  our 
minds,  we  have  but  to  turn  to  the  battlefields  of 
Belgium  to  see  how  diverse  are  the  deeds  possible 


132    ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR 

under  the  common  incentives  of  patriotism  —  the 
heroic  resistance  of  the  Belgians,  the  chivalrous 
support  of  their  allies,  and  the  ruthless  ravages  of 
the  Germans.  It  was  in  the  assertion  of  German  pa- 
triotism that  Chancellor  von  Bethmann-Hollweg 
uttered  the  words,  impossible  to  recall,  impos- 
sible to  forget:  "Necessity  knows  no  law.  Our 
troops  have  occupied  Luxemburg,  and  have  pos- 
sibly already  entered  on  Belgian  soil.  That  is  a 
breach  of  international  law.  .  .  .  We  were  forced  to 
ignore  the  rightful  protests  of  the  Governments 
of  Luxemburg  and  Belgium,  and  the  injustice  — 
I  speak  openly  —  the  injustice  we  thereby  commit, 
we  will  try  to  make  good  as  soon  as  our  military 
aims  have  been  attained.  Anybody  who  is  threat- 
ened as  we  are  threatened  and  is  fighting  for  his 
highest  possessions  can  have  only  one  thought  — 
how  he  is  to  hack  his  way  through." 

Is  the  moral  control  of  patriotism  possible?  Can 
a  nation  train  itself  to  go  beyond  resistance  to  the 
allurements  of  conquest  and  aggrandizement,  and 
withstand  also  the  incitements  of  national  pride, 
national  prejudice,  and  so-called  national  neces- 
sity, in  the  interest  of  international  morality?  The 
hope  of  the  development  of  an  authoritative  in- 
ternational morality  must  rest  upon  this  possi- 
bility. It  is  implied  in  the  ethical  challenge  of  the 
war  that  such  a  result  is  impossible.  It  is  implied 


ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR    133 

further  that  the  claim  to  respect  an  international 
authority  in  national  emergencies  would  be  hypoc- 
risy. In  the  language  already  quoted,  "Necessity 
knows  no  law.  .  .  .  Anybody  who  is  threatened  as 
we  are  threatened  and  is  fighting  for  his  highest 
possessions  can  have  only  one  thought  —  how  he 
is  to  hack  his  way  through."  Or  to  quote  the  saner 
language  of  Treitschke,  "The  evolution  of  an  inter- 
national court  of  arbitration  as  a  permanent  insti- 
tution is  incompatible  with  the  nature  of  the  State. 
To  the  end  of  history  arms  will  maintain  their  rights; 
and  in  that  very  point  lies  the  sacredness  of  war." 
In  this  insistence  upon  the  moral  supremacy  of 
the  nation  in  national  emergencies  we  have  again 
the  challenge  of  the  half-truth.  The  challenge 
rests  upon  the  assumed  impotence  of  international 
morality  to  provide  against  national  emergencies 
or  to  lessen  their  stringency.  That  great  progress 
has  been  made  in  the  development  of  international 
morality  is  evident.  The  principles  of  international 
justice  have  been  set  forth  with  increasing  clearness 
and  cogency,  and  are  steadily  gaining  recognition. 
The  greatest  stumbling-block  to  further  progress 
lies  in  the  lack  of  self-control  on  the  part  of  indi- 
vidual nations.  Before  we  can  anticipate  any  gen- 
eral practice  of  international  morality  the  nations 
must  go  to  school,  each  to  itself,  in  this  severe  art 
of  self-control. 


134    ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR 

I  think  that  this  is  the  discipline  which  awaits 
the  people  of  this  country.  There  seems  to  be  little 
danger  from  the  spirit  of  conquest.  The  acquisition 
of  the  Philippines,  if  that  is  the  proper  term  to 
apply  to  our  possession  of  the  islands,  has  not 
developed  the  desire  for  further  expansion  of  that 
kind.  I  doubt  if  anybody  regards  their  retention 
in  any  other  light  than  that  of  an  obligation.  And 
though  territory  lying  near  at  hand  may  be  a 
source  of  temptation,  it  is  probable  that  the  great 
majority  of  our  people,  certainly  in  their  saner 
moments,  would  be  willing  to  subscribe  to  Presi- 
dent Wilson's  Mobile  pledge,  that  our  Government 
would  "never  seek  a  foot  of  territory  by  conquest." 

The  discipline  awaiting  us  as  a  nation  in  the 
control  of  patriotism  grows  out  of  the  indefinite- 
ness  and  at  the  same  time  the  sensitiveness  of  cer- 
tain foreign  relations  which  are  peculiar  to  our  sit- 
uation. The  United  States  made  its  distinctive 
entrance  into  diplomacy  through  the  enunciation  of 
the  Monroe  Doctrine.  It  was  the  most  sensational 
entrance  which  a  nation  ever  made  into  world- 
diplomacy.  One  cannot  tell  even  now  whether  to 
be  the  more  amazed  at  its  sublimity  or  at  its  au- 
dacity. The  Monroe  Doctrine  preempted  a  whole 
continent  for  undisturbed  experimentation  in  de- 
mocracy, the  experiments  to  be  carried  on  in  re- 
gions remote  from  one  another,  and  by  races  as 


ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR    135 

unlike  as  those  trained  under  English  and  Spanish 
traditions.  What  greater  claim  to  political  superi- 
ority could  have  been  advanced  than  that  involved 
in  the  official  assertion  of  the  principle  "that  the 
American  continents,  by  the  free  and  independent 
conditions  they  have  assumed  and  maintain,  are 
henceforth  not  to  be  considered  subjects  for  further 
colonization  by  any  European  Powers";  and, 
further,  that  "it  is  impossible  that  the  Allied 
Powers  [the  Powers  of  the  Holy  Alliance]  should 
extend  their  political  system  to  any  portion  of 
either  continent  without  endangering  our  peace 
and  happiness:  nor  can  any  one  believe  that  our 
southern  [South  American]  brothers,  if  left  to  them- 
selves, would  adopt  it  of  their  own  accord.  It  is 
equally  impossible  therefore  that  we  should  behold 
such  interposition  with  indifference." 

Fortunately,  through  the  interested  cooperation 
of  Great  Britain,  the  original  occasion  for  the  Doc- 
trine passed  by  without  any  demand  for  its  enforce- 
ment, and  subsequent  occasions  have  not  been  of 
sufficient  importance  to  test  the  force  of  the  Doc- 
trine. It  by  no  means  follows,  however,  that  the 
Doctrine  has  become  obsolete.  Certainly  it  sur- 
vives as  a  sentiment  which  can  be  easily  aroused, 
as  was  shown  in  the  response  of  the  country  to 
President  Cleveland's  Venezuelan  Message.  Oc- 
casions may  revive  the  Doctrine  and  give  it  a  new 


136    ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR 

application.  The  South  American  republics  have 
outgrown  the  danger  of  European  interference,  but 
who  can  foresee  what  interpretation  would  be  put 
upon  the  Doctrine,  or  what  [expression  would  be 
given  to  the  sentiment,  if  any  of  the  republics 
should  enter  into  alliances  with  European  Powers? 
Of  much  more  immediate  concern  is  the  relation 
of  the  Central  American  States  to  the  European 
Powers  through  concessions  granted  to  private 
capital;  and  closer  still,  our  necessary  concern  with 
the  internal  affairs  of  Mexico.  Other  complica- 
tions of  a  more  delicate  nature  will  at  once  suggest 
themselves  in  view  of  the  liability  of  a  State  to  in- 
volve the  Federal  Government  in  very  grave  diffi- 
culties. For  years  to  come,  if  not  for  the  indefinite 
future,  our  foreign  relations  must  increase  in  rela- 
tive importance  and  in  the  demands  which  they 
must  make  upon  the  intelligent  consideration  of 
the  country. 

This  means,  of  course,  the  development  of  a  dip- 
lomatic service  suitable  to  the  strain  which  will  fall 
upon  it.  Our  "unpreparedness"  in  diplomacy  is 
far  greater  than  our  unpreparedness  in  war,  and  it 
is  far  more  dangerous.  It  is  the  office  of  diplomacy 
to  make  an  unjustifiable  war  impossible.  It  is  the 
office  of  diplomacy  to  make  a  nation  intelligent  and 
responsible  in  the  uses  of  patriotism.  It  is  the  office 
of  diplomacy  to  school  the  State  in  the  principles 


ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR    137 

of  international  morality.  Under  the  guidance  of 
wise  and  consistent  diplomacy,  the  citizens  of  a 
State  ought  never  to  be  placed  in  the  dilemma  of 
apparent  disloyalty  or  of  supporting  the  Govern- 
ment when  in  the  wrong.  The  dilemma  ought  to  be 
anticipated  and  provided  against.  I  believe  that  the 
profession  of  diplomacy  has  the  greatest  opportu- 
nity, among  all  the  professions  in  this  country,  for 
advanced  ethical  instruction  and  leadership.  And 
if  the  ethical  challenge  of  the  war  arouses  the 
Nation  to  a  sense  of  its  deficiency  in  this  regard, 
and  to  a  determination  to  meet  its  obligations,  we 
may  justly  hope  that  the  Nation  will  in  due  time 
assume  a  place  of  commanding  influence  in  the 
sphere  of  international  morals. 

IV 

It  is  highly  significant  of  the  ethical  reach  of  the 
war  that  it  has  brought  religion  into  the  field  of 
controversy:  not  contending  religious  faiths,  but 
religion.  The  war  itself  is  absolutely  free  from  re- 
ligious bias.  Christians  of  all  faiths,  Moslems,  and 
Buddhists  are  fighting  side  by  side,  while  Protes- 
tant is  fighting  against  Protestant,  Catholic  against 
Catholic,  Moslem  against  Moslem.  Not  even  Rus- 
sia or  Turkey  has  been  able  to  make  it  a  Holy  War. 
And  yet  no  religious  war  ever  stirred  deeper  ques- 
tionings about  religion.  As  it  originated  entirely 


138    ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR 

among  the  Christian  nations,  it  was  to  be  expected 
that  the  mocking  cry  would  go  up  from  without 
Christendom,  "Where  is  now  thy  God?"  On  the 
whole,  the  Oriental  nations  have  shown  surprising 
restraint  in  their  religious  attitude  toward  the  war, 
due  in  part  possibly  to  their  more  fatalistic  con- 
ception of  religion.  Within  Christendom  the  im- 
mediate result  was  a  suspension,  almost  a  paraly- 
sis, of  faith.  Some  Christian  publicists  were  moved 
to  give  over  Christianity  altogether  as  of  no  further 
service  in  any  endeavor  to  establish  international 
peace. 

What  have  we  the  right  to  expect  of  religion  — 
in  particular  of  Christianity  —  in  restraint  of  war? 
In  what  sense  is  Christianity  the  religion  of  peace? 
Without  doubt  the  present  war  is  a  more  direct 
challenge  to  the  Christian  religion  to  define  its  own 
militant  spirit  than  it  has  ever  before  received. 

The  contention  that  religion  needs  the  stimulus 
of  war  to  maintain  its  virility  is  not  only  less  than 
the  half-truth,  but  in  respect  to  Christianity  it  is  a 
perversion  of  the  truth.  Militarism  has  nothing 
to  teach  Christianity  regarding  the  practice  of  the 
heroic  virtues.  A  religion  which  was  born  in  the 
supreme  act  of  sacrificial  courage,  which  defied  the 
centuries  of  persecution,  which  mastered  in  turn 
the  virile  races  of  Europe,  which  conquered  despot- 
ism and  cast  out  slavery,  which  has  subdued  sav- 


ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR    139 

age  tribes  and  now  holds  its  outposts  in  all  dark  and 
cruel  parts  of  the  habitable  earth,  is  not  a  religion 
to  be  asked  to  sit  at  the  feet  of  modern  militarism. 
On  the  contrary,  it  ought  to  be  made  a  duty  of 
modern  Christianity  to  expose  the  mock  heroics  of 
militarism  —  its  affectations,  its  cheap  swagger,  its 
intolerable  insolence,  its  scorn  of  all  knightly  quali- 
ties. The  present  war  has  its  heroes  in  all  ranks, 
but  they  are  such,  not  because  of  militarism,  but 
in  spite  of  it.  A  system  which  produced  and 
justified  the  Zabern  incident  can  lay  no  claim  to 
the  finer  qualities  of  heroism.  The  German  army, 
trained  in  the  school  of  militarism,  has  shown  no 
superiority  in  courage  to  compensate  for  the  char- 
acter of  its  discipline.  The  terrorizing  of  non-com- 
batant communities  is  a  natural  sequence  of  the  de- 
basement of  heroism.  And  both  are  prophetic  of 
the  inevitable  effect  upon  a  nation  which  allows  its 
civil  life  to  be  subordinated  to  the  demands  of 
militarism.  Whatever  may  be  the  revenges  of  time 
in  atonement  for  the  present  war,  the  heaviest  re- 
venge must  ultimately  fall  upon  the  spirit  of  the 
German  people. 

But  while  from  every  point  of  view  militarism  is 
an  offense  to  Christianity,  to  be  resisted  in  the  name 
of  religion  as  well  as  in  the  name  of  liberty,  it  by  no 
means  follows  that  the  militant  spirit  of  Christian- 
ity is  contrary  to  its  essential  object  in  this  world. 


140    ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR 

That  object  is  the  furtherance  of  righteousness. 
Righteousness  as  compared  with  peace  is  an  abso- 
lute term.  It  has  a  definite  and  well-nigh  unchange- 
able meaning.  Peace,  as  applied  to  the  relation  of 
states,  is  a  term  of  uncertain  ethical  force.  It  is  no 
guaranty  of  righteousness.  For  example,  in  the 
Hague  Conferences  our  Government  joined  in  set- 
ting forth  certain  definite  principles  concerning  the 
treatment  of  neutral  states.  Nearly  every  one  of 
those  principles  was  violated  by  Germany  in  the 
treatment  of  Belgium.  We  have  refrained  from 
official  protest  on  the  ground  that  the  action  of  the 
Conference  still  awaits  complete  ratification,  con- 
tenting ourselves  with  whatever  of  protest  is  in- 
volved in  our  attempt  to  feed  the  starving  popu- 
lation of  that  devastated  country.  Suppose  that  by 
the  terms  of  settlement  following  the  close  of  the 
war  the  sovereignty  of  Belgium  should  be  de- 
stroyed; ought  we  to  support  the  settlement,  in  the 
interest  of  peace?  How  far  may  the  militant  spirit 
of  Christianity  be  held  in  check  by  the  claims  of 
neutrality?  When  does  peace  forfeit  the  sanctions 
of  religion?  Evidently  peace  has  no  moral  signifi- 
cance except  as  it  is  an  exponent  of  justice.  History 
bears  constant  witness  to  the  fact  that  the  most 
disturbing  factor  in  international  relations  is  an 
unjust  peace.  Treaties  really  belong  to  the  estate 
of  war.  They  are  intrenchments  cast  up  to  defend 


ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR    141 

the  status  quo.  International  conventions  usually 
have  no  other  object.  The  balance  of  power  was 
fitly  characterized  by  John  Bright  as  the  "foul 
idol"  of  England.  The  so-called  concert  of  Europe 
has  seldom  prevented  war  except  at  the  cost  of 
freedom  and  justice. 

The  various  international  devices  which  have 
been  entered  into  in  the  name  of  peace  show  how 
difficult  it  is  for  the  nations  to  understand  that  the 
making  of  peace  is  as  serious  a  business  as  the  mak- 
ing of  war.  It  seems  to  be  equally  difficult  for  some 
of  the  most  ardent  and  devoted  peacemakers  to 
understand  the  tremendous  seriousness  of  their 
business.  I  think  that  this  inability  explains  the 
lack  of  popular  support  for  the  peace  movement 
in  this  country.  There  is  a  well-grounded  suspicion 
that  it  has  been  overcapitalized,  and  that  it  is  being 
overargued.  In  spite  of  its  able  promoters  and  its 
eloquent  advocates,  it  has  not  greatly  stirred  the 
popular  heart.  It  has  yet  to  enter  the  "strait  gate" 
and  the  "narrow  way"  through  which  all  the  great 
reform  movements  of  history  have  passed.  When 
the  nations  are  willing  to  make  sacrifices  for  peace 
in  any  degree  commensurate  with  those  which  are 
made  for  war,  we  shall  have  peace.  Is  it  reasonable 
to  suppose  that  we  shall  have  it  on  easier  conditions  ? 
But  this  means  at  least  the  readjustment  of  many 
"existing  rights,"  concessions  in  respect  to  trade 


142    ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR 

and  commerce,  the  restraint  of  racial  pride,  —  in  a 
word,  it  means  sacrifice.  Disarmament  would  be 
futile  if  the  occasions  and  incentives  of  war  were 
to  remain  in  force. 

If  we  are  to  advance  the  cause  of  universal  and 
permanent  peace,  there  are  two  points  at  which 
we  must  turn  for  support  and  guidance  to  the  mili- 
tant spirit  of  Christianity.  First,  we  must  look  to 
that  source  for  sufficiency  of  moral  courage.  Chris- 
tianity never  underestimates  its  tasks.  The  obdu- 
racy of  human  nature  and  its  powers  of  resistance 
have  never  been  so  accurately  measured  as  by  the 
founder  of  the  Christian  religion.  Christ  based 
his  hopes  and  expectations  upon  moral  conflict. 
He  made  moral  courage  the  indispensable  requisite 
for  those  who  proposed  to  do  his  work  among  men. 
The  exercise  of  moral  courage  involves  as  many 
consequences  as  does  the  exercise  of  physical  cour- 
age; sometimes  the  same  consequences.  When  the 
peace  movement  passes  into  the  stage  of  moral 
militancy  it  will  develop  its  own  type  of  heroism. 
This  will  be  especially  true  among  statesmen  who 
may  have  the  opportunity  to  emulate  their  pred- 
ecessors in  the  anti-slavery  struggle.  Every  oc- 
casion for  the  display  of  moral  courage  offers  a 
counter-attraction  to  war. 

And  second,  we  must  turn  to  militant  Christian- 
ity to  furnish  us  with  its  spirit  of  hospitality  to  the 


ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR    143 

emerging  races.  The  chief  characteristic  of  civili- 
zation is  its  exclusiveness.  It  means  to-day  more 
than  ever  the  aristocracy  of  culture,  wealth,  and 
power.  In  this  aspect  civilization  and  progress  are 
not  synonymous  terms.  Civilization  boasts  of  the 
developed  race  and  sets  forth  its  accomplishments 
and  achievements.  Progress  takes  account  also  of 
the  undeveloped  race  and  estimates  its  value  by 
the  depth  and  richness  of  its  humanity.  The  mili- 
tant spirit  of  Christianity  is  always  to  be  found  in 
the  ranks  of  progress  whenever  progress  conies  into 
conflict  with  civilization.  It  demands  place  and 
room  for  each  advancing  race  in  the  name  of  "the 
God  of  the  whole  earth."  It  is  impossible  to  think 
that  any  exclusive  peace  devised  by  civilization 
can  satisfy  what  may  be  termed  the  militant  hospi- 
tality of  Christianity.  What  guaranty  of  perma- 
nent peace  could  Christianity  offer  if  the  outcome 
of  the  present  war  should  be  the  exclusion  of  the 
Slav  from  partnership  in  European  civilization? 

I  have  singled  out  that  phase  of  the  war  which 
compels  attention  to  the  ethics  of  political  power 
because  of  its  bearing  upon  the  political  future  of 
this  country.  Modern  nations  do  not  yield  to  the 
allurements  of  power  without  seeking  to  put  their 
conduct  upon  an  ethical  basis.  There  is  no  longer 
danger  from  open  and  undisguised  schemes  of 
national  aggrandizement.  The  danger  lies  in  those 


144    ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR 

political  half -truths  and  sophistries  through  which 
nations  are  able  to  persuade  themselves  that  their 
action  in  cases  of  aggression  is  rightful,  —  rightful 
because  considered  necessary  to  the  welfare  or  the 
destiny  of  the  State.  No  other  persuasion  can 
carry  a  nation  so  far,  or  become  so  easily  the  ob- 
session of  a  whole  people.  Of  this  fact  we  have  the 
supreme  illustration  in  the  present  behavior  of 
Germany. 

It  is  not  safe  to  assume  that  a  democracy  is  proof 
against  the  allurements  of  power,  or  that  it  will  not 
seek  to  find  justification  for  yielding  to  temptation. 
In  some  respects  democracies  are  more  suscepti- 
ble to  outward  temptations  than  peoples  under 
the  rule  of  absolutism.  The  chief  security  of  a 
democracy  must  be  looked  for  in  those  satisfactions 
of  liberty  for  which  there  can  be  no  equivalent. 
But  even  these  satisfactions  must  be  supported  by 
a  true  understanding  of  the  ethical  meaning  of 
democracy.  What  does  it  really  mean  to  live  under 
the  conception  of  the  State  as  freedom  rather  than 
as  power?  What  does  loyalty  to  that  conception 
require?  How  shall  we  maintain  and  defend  the 
ethical  life  of  a  democracy?  Apart  from  the  clear 
understanding  of  its  ethical  life,  I  assume  that  the 
two  great  requisites  are  self-control  and  moral 
courage:  self-control  to  guard  the  Nation  against 
the  wrong  uses  of  patriotism,  and  moral  courage  to 


ETHICAL  CHALLENGE  OF  THE  WAR    145 

enable  it  to  make  such  genuine  sacrifices  as  may 
be  necessary  for  the  advancement  of  international 
morality  and  international  peace.  In  this  convic- 
tion I  have  endeavored  to  interpret  the  ethical 
challenge  of  the  war  as  a  matter  of  direct  concern 
to  us  in  our  theory  and  practice  of  democracy,  in 
our  command  of  the  patriotic  impulses  of  the  Na- 
tion, and  in  our  application  of  the  ethical  forces  of 
religion  to  the  conduct  of  the  State. 


VI 

THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE 
PROBLEM 


THE  revulsion  of  feeling  against  war  itself,  en- 
gendered by  the  present  war,  is  beyond  question 
the  most  powerful  stimulus  to  the  cause  of  univer- 
sal peace  the  world  has  yet  known.  It  has  created 
in  many  minds  the  conviction  that  war  must  end, 
and  it  has  stirred  in  some  minds  the  determination 
to  strive  without  ceasing  to  bring  about  this  result. 
The  feeling  is  manifestly  acquiring  a  strength  and 
consistency  of  purpose  sufficient  to  carry  it  beyond 
the  generation  in  which  it  has  been  developed,  and 
to  give  it  the  cumulative  power  of  time. 

And  yet  it  cannot  be  claimed  that  the  progress 
of  the  peace  movement  is  proportionate  to  the  stim- 
ulus which  is  constantly  acting  upon  it.  The  cur- 
rent of  feeling  which  sets  so  strongly  away  from  war 
does  not  run  with  equal  force  toward  peace.  It 
seems  to  be  increasingly  difficult  to  organize  the 
anti-war  sentiment  into  the  peace  movement.  The 
reason  commonly  given  is  the  confirmed  unbelief 
of  men  in  the  practicability  of  universal  peace.  I 


;THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM  147 

question  the  sufficiency  of  the  explanation.  When 
men  are  stirred  by  tremendous  convictions  they 
are  not  daunted  by  the  fear  of  impracticability.  I 
believe  that  we  are  as  clearly  justified  in  commit- 
ting the  cause  of  universal  peace  to  "the  opinion 
of  mankind"  as  were  our  forefathers  in  committing 
their  new  doctrine  of  universal  liberty  and  equality 
to  the  same  accessible  and  sufficient  authority.  True, 
we  thereby  ask  for  nothing  less  than  a  reversal  of  the 
habit  of  thought  of  the  world.  They  in  their  time 
asked  for  nothing  less.  The  great  generations  have 
always  asked  in  one  way  or  another  for  the  same 
thing.  Though  in  itself  something  new  and  strange, 
it  is  not  without  historic  warrant,  that  men  who 
have  inherited  the  habit  of  thinking  in  terms  of 
war  should  be  expected  to  acquire  the  habit  of 
thinking  in  terms  of  peace. 

We  must  go  much  deeper  for  the  explanation  of 
the  increasing  hesitancy  in  the  acceptance  of  the 
doctrine  of  universal  peace.  The  problem  of  peace, 
for  such  the  peace  movement  has  now  become, 
does  not  lie  in  the  conviction  of  its  impracticability, 
unless  it  be  deemed  morally  impracticable.  The  sug- 
gestion of  the  moral  impracticability  of  peace  seems 
like  a  contradiction  of  terms.  Nevertheless,  if  we 
follow  it  but  a  little  way,  it  will  lead  to  the  disquiet- 
ing discovery  of  a  very  strong  suspicion  in  the  pop- 
ular mind  of  a  latent  selfishness  in  peace;  and  fur- 


148    THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM 

ther,  after  due  observation  and  reflection,  we  shall 
be  brought,  I  think,  to  see  that  the  very  crux  of  the 
problem  of  peace  lies  in  the  difficulty  of  eradicating 
this  suspicion.  The  awful  immoralities  of  war,  .so 
terribly  obvious,  are  offset  in  part  by  the  counter- 
acting effect  of  the  impressive  displays  of  unselfish- 
ness. 

We  are  all  conscious  of  a  grievous  inconsistency 
in  our  feelings  about  war.  As  the  horrors  of  the 
present  war  press  steadily  upon  us,  and  as  the 
menace  of  militarism  becomes  more  threatening, 
there  are  times  when  the  argument  against  war 
seems  to  be  complete  and  final.  But  when  the 
moral  aspects  of  our  own  Civil  War  are  brought 
before  us  in  vivid  retrospect,  as  in  the  recent  gath- 
ering of  so  many  survivors  of  the  conflict  in  their 
enfeebled  but  exultant  comradeship;  and  when  the 
moral  result  of  that  war  is  set  forth  in  the  words  of 
a  peace-loving  President  as  "a  miracle  of  the  spirit, 
in  that,  instead  of  destroying,  it  has  healed";  and 
when,  after  the  lapse  of  the  half-century,  we  can 
see  no  other  way  than  that  then  taken  through 
which  we  could  have  reached  our  present  state  of 
unity  and  peace,  we  are  not  so  sure  that  the  present 
war  has  closed  the  case  against  war. 

War,  in  itself  essentially  evil,  may  acquire  moral 
character  as  the  instrumentality  for  serving  a 
righteous  cause.  Peace,  in  itself  essentially  good, 


THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM  149 

may  lose  moral  character  from  the  failure  to  identify 
itself  with  a  righteous  cause  in  the  time  of  its  ex- 
tremity. I  trace  the  popular  suspicion  of  a  latent 
selfishness  in  peace  to  its  undefined  and  indeter- 
minate attitude  in  so  many  cases  toward  ends  out- 
side and  beyond  itself.  The  constant  insistence  upon 
peace  as  an  end  in  itself  is  to  be  deprecated.  If  we 
are  to  create  confidence  in  the  trustworthiness  of 
peace  to  render  that  sacrificial  service  which  is  at 
times  rendered  so  effectively  through  war,  it  must 
be  made  to  wear  a  different  aspect  from  that  which 
it  now  presents  to  the  world.  We  cannot  afford  to 
overlook  the  very  marked  distrust  of  its  moral  re- 
liability for  the  more  serious  business  of  the  nations. 
We  cannot  afford  to  ignore  the  hesitancy  of  men 
in  the  lower  ranks  of  rights  and  privileges,  power- 
less except  for  numbers,  to  employ  a  new  and  un- 
certain agency  to  secure  broader  rights  and  higher 
privileges.  Neither  can  we  afford  to  make  light  of 
the  questionings  in  our  own  hearts  as  to  our  ability, 
under  such  conditions  of  peace  as  we  have  known, 
to  awaken  and  satisfy  those  nobler  instincts  of  hu- 
man nature  which  have  at  times  found  stimulating 
if  not  satisfying  employment  in  war.  Certainly  the 
ordinary  routine  of  peace  would  not  be  satisfying. 
Its  luxuries  would  be  debasing.  Human  nature 
would  send  up  its  continual  challenge  for  some 
moral  equivalent  of  war.  I  note  with  careful  at- 


150    THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM 

tention  this  sentence,  quoted  by  the  reviewer  of  a 
recent  book,  "The  Unmaking  of  Europe":  "Eu- 
rope will  never  cease  from  war  till  she  finds  some 
better  thing  to  do;  that  better  business  is  neither 
trade  nor  philosophy,  nor  even  art :  it  is  —  in  one 
word  —  sacrifice." 

I  am  convinced  that  it  will  be  to  the  ultimate 
advancement  of  the  cause  of  universal  peace  if  we 
inquire  with  sufficient  concern  into  the  moral  effect 
of  our  present  insistence  upon  peace  as  an  end  in 
itself,  rather  than  as  an  instrumentality  for  effect- 
ing greater  ends  outside  and  beyond  itself.  The 
maintenance  of  the  so-called  arts  of  peace  is  not  a 
sufficient  justification  for  peace  under  all  condi- 
tions. To  the  degree  in  which  we  fail  to  clothe 
peace  with  moral  power,  to  identify  it  with  ob- 
jects of  moral  concern,  to  make  it  the  incentive 
and  opportunity  for  sacrifice  and  heroism,  we  leave 
it  under  the  popular  imputation  of  selfishness.  I 
follow  out  the  danger  from  this  defect  in  our  advo- 
cacy of  peace  into  sufficient  detail  to  indicate  the 
extent  of  the  popular  distrust,  and  to  show  the 
grounds  of  it. 

ii 

The  most  evident,  and  in  some  respects  the  most 
justifiable,  ground  of  popular  distrust  of  the  peace 
movement  is  the  fear  that  it  may  effect  a  change  in 


THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM  151 

the  relative  moral  value  of  things  which  have  thus 
far  held  the  first  place  in  the  estimation  of  men. 
These  first  things  are  justice,  liberty,  and,  more 
recently,  equality.  Of  these  there  is  probably  the 
greatest  sensitiveness  in  regard  to  liberty.  But 
loyalty  to  some  one  of  these  moral  constants,  as  the 
given  circumstances  may  direct,  has  been  regarded 
as  the  primary  duty.  Will  this  distinction  be  main- 
tained under  peace,  or  will  there  be  a  tendency  to 
raise  the  relative  value  of  those  secondary  duties 
which  are  incident  to  some  supreme  struggle  in 
behalf  of  liberty  or  justice  ? 

We  are  gaining  an  understanding  of  the  relative 
significance  of  the  primary  duty  of  defending  liberty 
as  we  are  called  upon  to  meet  one  of  the  secondary 
duties  thrust  upon  us  by  the  war.  We  have  ac- 
cepted neutrality  as  our  national  duty  in  the  pres- 
ent crisis.  We  have  accepted  it  as  prescribed  by  our 
position,  rendering  physical  participation  in  the 
war  relatively  impracticable;  as  most  consistent 
with  our  traditions,  warning  us  against  foreign 
alliances;  and  as  necessitated  apparently  by  the 
composite  character  of  the  nation,  made  up  as  it  is 
out  of  the  nations  at  war.  It  has  been  accepted,  un- 
der the  high  leadership  of  the  President,  as  a  duty 
which  carries  with  it  the  distinction  of  making  us 
the  "mediating  nation  of  the  world."  "We  are," 
to  use  his  words,  "compounded  of  the  nations  of 


152    THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM 

the  world;  we  mediate  their  bloods;  we  medi- 
ate their  traditions;  we  mediate  their  sentiments, 
their  tastes,  their  passions;  we  are  ourselves  com- 
pounded of  those  things.  Therefore  we  are  able  to 
understand  all  nations.  In  that  sense  America  is  a 
mediating  nation." 

This  is  a  noble  and  commanding  conception  of 
the  duty  attending  the  increase  and  expansion  of 
the  nation,  but  it  inevitably  suggests  Mr.  Lincoln's 
conception  of  the  duty  attending  its  origin  and  the 
cause  of  its  existence,  in  the  familiar  words  of  the 
Gettysburg  Speech.  It  was  the  conception  there 
set  forth,  realized  in  the  sight  of  the  world,  which 
brought  hither  the  peoples  out  of  all  nations  who 
have  made  this  a  composite  nation.  It  is  this  con- 
ception, not  the  increase  of  numbers  which  it  has 
effected,  which  is  the  reason  of  our  continuance  as 
a  nation.  It  is  this  conception  which  is  entitled  to 
undisputed  precedence  as  the  generations  pass  and 
as  still  newer  peoples  and  races  enter  our  gates. 

These  two  conceptions,  that  of  a  composite  and 
mediating  nation,  and  that  of  a  nation  conceived 
in  liberty  and  dedicated  to  the  maintenance  of  it, 
are  in  no  sense  incompatible  if  they  are  held  in 
true  proportion  the  one  to  the  other.  If  in  the  final 
settlement  of  the  issues  of  the  present  war  this  Na- 
tion shall  be  able,  because  of  its  neutrality,  to  cast 
the  vote  which  shall  reinstate  Belgium  in  its  sover- 


THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM  153 

eignty  and  restore  to  France  its  ravished  provinces, 
we  shall  have  achieved  a  great  victory  for  the  new 
policy  of  making  neutrality  tributary  to  liberty. 
If  we  fail  in  our  endeavor,  the  endeavor  will  stand 
to  our  credit  in  the  account  with  peace,  but  not  to 
our  credit  in  the  account  with  liberty.  The  liberty- 
loving  and  sacrificing  nations,  though  they  may  in 
that  event  have  suffered  defeat,  will  necessarily  as- 
sume the  moral  leadership  among  kindred  nations, 
leaving  to  us  the  place  of  leadership  in  the  cause 
of  neutrality.  Just  what  this  may  signify  in  the 
long  future  will  depend  upon  the  part  which  neu- 
trality is  to  play  in  international  affairs.  But  at 
present  there  are  those  among  us  who  cannot  per- 
suade themselves  that  the  cause  of  neutrality  in  its 
widest  reach  is  comparable  with  the  cause  of  liberty. 
While  we  follow  with  approval  the  course  of  the 
Administration  in  the  vindication  of  our  rights  as  a 
neutral  nation,  our  hearts  are  in  the  contest  across 
the  sea.  We  are  conscious  that  the  great  issues  are 
being  settled  there.  Our  unofficial  neutrality  is 
charged  with  sympathies  which  find  their  only  relief 
and  satisfaction  in  the  fact  that  our  official  neu- 
trality can  be  legitimately  used  to  the  advantage 
of  those  with  whom  we  sympathize. 

Our  present  position,  however,  as  related  to  the 
supreme  issue  of  the  war,  is  calculated  to  awaken, 
and  has  awakened  in  many  minds,  serious  forebod- 


154    THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM 

ings.  In  the  event  of  the  final  victory  of  Germany 
we  have  the  definite  prospect  of  the  consolidation 
of  the  Teutonic  nations,  with  the  inclusion  of  the 
tributary  races  of  southeastern  Europe,  and  with 
the  incorporation  of  the  Turk,  giving  a  combina- 
tion for  the  support  of  militarism  such  as  the  world 
has  not  seen  since  the  days  of  the  Roman  Empire. 
No  one  can  fail  to  understand  the  part  which  this 
combination  would  play  in  the  continued  struggle 
between  absolutism  and  democracy,  a  struggle  in 
which  there  will  be  lessening  room  for  the  opera- 
tion of  neutrality,  and  a  straitening  of  place  for  the 
neutral  nations.  The  forecast  gives  significance  to 
the  words  of  Lord  Cromer:  "If  Germany  should  be 
vanquished  in  the  present  contest,  all  will  fortu- 
nately be  well  for  nations  which  have  been  able  to 
preserve  their  neutrality.  The  triumph  of  the  Al- 
lies will  incidentally  involve  their  triumph.  But  if 
the  contrary  should  prove  to  be  the  case,  and  if 
Germany  should  emerge  victorious  from  the  strug- 
gle, neutrals  will  eventually  have  to  ask  themselves 
whether  a  more  timely  and  active  interference  on 
their  part  might  not  have  obviated  the  disastrous 
results  which  must  inevitably  ensue  both  to  them- 
selves and  to  the  world  in  general." 

In  this  view  of  the  situation  national  prepared- 
ness assumes  a  new  meaning.  It  means  self-defense 
in  all  contingencies,  but  it  means  in  certain  con- 


THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM  155 

tingencies  the  wider  defense  of  liberty.  I  doubt 
if  the  more  extreme  pacifists  have  ever  contem- 
plated the  defeat  of  the  Allies,  at  least  their  disas- 
trous defeat.  It  is  one  thing  to  hold  the  more  abso- 
lute views  of  peace  unvexed  by  any  thought  of  the 
actual  danger  to  liberty,  and  another  thing  to  en- 
tertain the  same  views  in  quietness  of  mind  if  the 
securities  of  liberty  are  evidently  endangered.  But 
the  advocacy  of  peace  may  be  carried  to  the  point 
of  "moral  temerity"  through  a  fatal  lack  of  per- 
spective, as  in  the  present  untimely  effort  to  arrest 
the  war  while  militarism  is  still  in  the  ascendant, 
and  when  the  party  of  aggression  has  the  most  to 
gain  and  the  least  to  lose.  The  whole  circumstance 
of  the  war  as  it  proceeds  makes  the  problem  of 
peace  terribly  urgent,  but  it  makes  the  problem 
also  terribly  searching  in  its  questionings.  What 
kind  of  peace  are  we  willing  to  accept  as  the  out- 
come of  the  war?  What  unexpiated  crimes  against 
liberty  are  we  willing  to  forget?  What  securities 
of  liberty  are  we  willing  to  forego? 

The  German  Chancellor  has  announced  that  it 
is  Germany's  aim  "to  be  the  shield  of  freedom 
and  peace  for  the  small  and  the  big  nations  of 
Europe."  When  we  think  of  universal  peace,  do 
we  or  do  we  not  tolerate  the  thought  of  a  peace 
established  in  militarism  and  guaranteed  by  mili- 
tarism? 


156  THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM 

in 

The  problem  of  universal  peace  cannot  be  re- 
stricted to  wars  induced  by  national  ambitions  or 
by  national  antagonisms:  it  must  take  due  ac- 
count of  the  social  strife.  The  social  strife  repre- 
sents a  possible  transition,  not  only  in  the  incite- 
ments to  war,  but  also  in  the  means  of  war,  from 
the  nation  to  the  class  as  the  unit  of  organized 
power.  On  the  ethical  side  it  represents  that  wide- 
spread struggle  for  equality  which  may  supersede 
the  struggle  for  liberty  as  the  chief  cause  of  revo- 
lution. 

The  comparative  unconcern  regarding  this  phase 
of  warfare  has  produced  in  not  a  few  minds  a  dis- 
trust of  what  may  be  termed  the  democracy  of 
peace.  The  movement  for  universal  peace  did  not 
enter  upon  the  crusade  against  war  with  that  popu- 
lar sympathy  which  might  have  been  gained  by 
some  earnest  endeavor  to  compose  the  social  strife. 
The  opportunity  had  been  for  a  long  time  present, 
and  it  had  become  increasingly  urgent.  The  war,  it 
must  be  remembered,  did  not  come  upon  us  simply 
as  an  interruption  of  peaceful  pursuits.  It  caused 
rather  an  instant  and  complete  diversion  from  con- 
tentions which  had  filled  the  minds  of  peoples  and 
of  rulers  with  anxieties  and  forebodings.  With  the 
exception  of  Germany  —  the  reasons  for  this  ex- 


THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM  157 

ception  have  since  become  evident  —  every  nation 
was  profoundly  agitated  by  the  threatenings  of  the 
social  strife.  But  this  state  of  affairs  received  little 
attention  from  the  advocates  of  peace.  Doubtless 
the  danger  was  underestimated,  but  the  impression 
often  produced  was  that  of  indifference  to  the  is- 
sues involved.  It  was  noted  that  the  sympathies 
of  men  could  be  enlisted  for  the  crusade  against 
war  who  were  themselves  interested  parties  in  the 
social  strife. 

In  what  form,  and  with  what  energy,  the  social 
strife  may  be  renewed  at  the  close  of  the  war  by 
the  nations  more  immediately  involved  in  it,  no 
one  may  predict.  We  can,  however,  foresee  the 
possibility  that  in  some  nations,  perhaps  in  Eng- 
land, the  war  may  avert  a  social  revolution  by  hav- 
ing virtually  effected  a  social  revolution.  Such  a 
reduction  of  economic  inequality  may  have  been 
brought  about,  and  such  a  redistribution  of  politi- 
cal power  may  have  been  made,  that  the  tension  of 
the  social  strife  may  prove  to  have  been  greatly 
relieved.  In  this  country  the  conditions  will  cer- 
tainly be  different,  creating  the  tendency  to  in- 
crease rather  than  to  diminish  the  social  strife. 
Very  much  of  the  spirit  of  sacrifice  which  has  sup- 
ported the  nations  at  war  may  be  expected  to  go 
over  into  the  economic  struggle  to  recover  the  mar^ 
kets  of  the  world.  This  willingness  to  endure  eco- 


158    THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM 

nomic  sacrifice  must  cause  a  cheapening  of  the 
market,  which  in  turn  must  affect  the  wages  of  the 
American  workman.  Dr.  David  Jayne  Hill  goes 
so  far  as  to  predict  that  America  will  be  made  the 
dumping-ground  for  the  cheaply  made  goods  of 
Germany,  owing  to  the  continued  hostility  of  the 
opposing  nations  as  expressed  in  restrictions  upon 
trade.  It  is  doubtful  if  a  like  protective  restric- 
tion in  this  country  would  maintain  wages  at  the 
present  standard.  Incidentally,  and  yet  very 
seriously,  the  disturbance  of  the  labor  market 
caused  by  the  manufacture  of  war  munitions  may 
affect  the  whole  labor  situation  when  the  collapse 
of  that  stimulated  industry  shall  occur.  No  one 
who  believes  in  the  legitimacy  of  this  industry, 
or  sympathizes  with  the  intent  of  it,  can  blind  his 
eyes  to  the  economic  danger  which  lurks  in  its 
development.  In  fact,  at  the  time  when  the  rup- 
ture of  diplomatic  relations  between  this  country 
and  Germany  seemed  imminent,  it  was  a  partial 
relief  of  the  strain  to  reflect  that,  in  that  event, 
this  industry  might  come  under  the  control  of  the 
Government  for  the  regulation  of  its  profits,  as 
well  as  for  the  direction  of  its  uses. 

It  has  long  been  evident,  though  the  fact  has 
not  yet  made  its  due  impression,  that  industrial- 
ism is  the  modern  training-school  for  war'or  peace. 
It  is  there  that  men  are  actually  thinking  of  one 


THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM  159 

another  in  terms  of  war  or  peace.  It  is  there  that 
they  learn  to  organize  for  or  against  one  another. 
The  lockout  and  the  strike  are  distinctly  warlike 
measures.  Arbitration  is  a  term  of  war,  the  most 
advanced  term  looking  toward  peace,  but  still  pre- 
supposing a  state  of  warfare.  Cooperation,  in  some 
one  of  its  manifold  forms,  is  the  only  distinctive 
term  of  peace.  It  is  such,  not  simply  because  it  im- 
plies sympathetic  action,  but  because  it  educates 
all  concerned  in  "those  sobrieties  on  which  democ- 
racy must  at  last  rest."  As  we  recall  how  many 
persons  are  in  the  training-school  of  industrialism, 
how  early  they  enter  it  and  how  long  they  remain 
in  it,  and  how  various  and  how  influential  are  the 
experiences  through  which  they  pass,  we  can  see 
how  far  back  the  peace  movement  must  reach  in  its 
educative  work.  What  can  we  hope  to  accomplish 
in  the  training  of  our  diplomats  for  carrying  out 
the  policy  of  universal  peace,  if  we  cannot  train 
our  captains  of  industry,  in  the  ranks  both  of 
capital  and  of  labor,  to  think  and  to  act  in  the 
terms  of  peace?  The  inconsistency  is  greater  than 
a  nation  can  maintain,  and  at  the  same  time  aspire 
to  the  place  of  leadership  in  the  cause  of  universal 
peace.  Peace  is  not  a  contrivance  for  the  settle- 
ment of  disputes  between  nations.  Peace  is  a  state 
of  mind  in  peoples  themselves,  developed,  if  at 
all,  out  of  the  ordinary  experiences  of  associated 


160    THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM 

life.  The  social  strife  creates  a  state  of  mind  which 
makes  peace  in  any  large  sense  seem  impracticable. 
If  we  cannot  do  business  according  to  the  prin- 
ciples and  methods  of  peace,  how  can  we  expect 
that  such  a  course  of  action  will  be  successful  in 
the  conduct  of  the  Government?  Nothing  would 
refute  so  quickly  or  so  effectively  the  charge  that 
peacemakers  are  theorists  as  the  application  of  the 
principles  and  methods  of  peace  to  industrialism. 
So  long  as  it  is  necessary  to  employ  the  Federal 
Army  to  keep  the  peace  in  Colorado,  or  for  like 
emergencies  in  other  States,  it  is  very  difficult 
to  persuade  the  average  man  of  the  moral  con- 
sistency of  efforts  for  general  disarmament. 

IV 

In  accounting  for  the  lack  of  popular  response 
to  the  present  claims  of  peace,  we  must  recall  the 
pessimistic  views  which  pervaded  society,  during 
the  years  of  peace  immediately  preceding  the  war, 
regarding  the  spiritual  outcome  of  our  modern 
material  civilization.  Now  that  war  has  come  and 
wakened  men  to  the  larger  issues  of  life,  they  do 
not  care  simply  to  revert  to  former  conditions. 

I  think  that  the  pessimism  which  preceded  the 
war  was  overwrought;  but  no  one  can  deny  its 
existence,  or  doubt  that  we  are  now  feeling  the 
effect  of  it  in  our  endeavor  to  justify  the  demands 


THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM  161 

of  peace.  In  view  of  this  past  experience,  which 
is  still  fresh  in  the  minds  of  men,  it  is  manifestly 
harder  for  them  to  believe  in  the  satisfaction, 
within  the  restrictions  of  peace,  of  some  of  those 
higher  instincts  which  have  free  play  in  the  tumult 
of  war.  Certainly  it  gives  an  added  pertinency 
to  the  questions,  where  is  the  moral  stimulus  of 
peace,  and  what  is  its  moral  equipment  for  the 
tasks,  the  conflicts,  and  the  adventures  of  life? 

When  we  turn  from  our  past  unsatisfying  ex- 
periences to  observe  more  carefully  the  range  of 
ordinary  moral  incentives  and  opportunities,  we 
are  impressed  by  two  conditions.  On  the  one 
hand  we  see  the  lessening  of  what  may  be  termed 
the  heroic  opportunity  for  the  average  man.  The 
outer  world  seems  to  be  closing  in  upon  him. 
Once,  and  in  days  not  far  remote,  this  outer  world 
gave  him  freedom,  incitement,  adventure.  It 
created  heroic  types  out  of  common  men.  The 
seafaring  man  made  England.  The  pioneer  made 
America,  as  one  may  see  in  reading,  for  example, 
Winston  Churchill's  "  The  Crossing,"  worthy  of  a 
permanent  place  in  American  literature  as  an  epic 
of  early  American  life.  To-day  it  is  the  task,  the 
"job,"  which  confronts  the  average  man,  not  the 
adventure.  When  we  think  of  the  splendid  possi- 
bilities in  industrialism  to  arouse  the  energies,  to 
quicken  the  imagination,  to  multiply  the  power  of 


162    THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM 

each  man  by  that  of  his  fellows,  we  might  assume 
an  increase  rather  than  a  lessening  of  the  oppor- 
tunity for  the  strenuous  life.  But  the  fact  is  other- 
wise. Industrialism  has  not  yet  realized  its  pos- 
sibilities of  incentive  and  opportunity.  For  the 
present  the  raw  immigrant  is  more  in  the  line  of 
succession  to  the  pioneer  than  any  man  amongst 
us.  He  may  be  disappointed,  disillusioned,  but 
not  before  he  has  bequeathed  to  his  children  de- 
sires and  ambitions  which  he  may  have  failed  to 
realize. 

On  the  other  hand,  passing  from  the  average 
to  the  exceptional  man,  the  man  with  the  full  op- 
portunities of  the  intellectual  life  before  him,  we 
see  how  easy  it  is  for  him  to  detach  himself  from 
the  incentives  of  the  spiritual  life.  It  would  not 
be  charitable  or  true  to  say  that  the  expansion 
of  the  intellectual  life  has  produced  merely  intel- 
lectualism.  It  has  produced  great  moral  results, 
as  notably  through  many  of  the  sacrifices  attend- 
ing the  progress  of  science.  But  it  has  also  pro- 
duced a  class,  corresponding  to  that  of  the  newly 
rich  in  social  life,  which  has  not  found  its  place  in 
the  intellectual  world.  With  many  of  this  class 
the  mark  of  intellectual  superiority  is  a  certain 
disdain  of  any  of  the  recognized  sources  of  the 
spiritual  incentive.  As  a  result  of  this  intellectual 
contempt,  the  inner  world  of  spiritual  motive  is 


THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM  163 

closed  to  the  man  of  this  type  as  effectually  as 
is  the  outer  world  of  adventure  to  the  average  man. 
War  brings  the  heroic  opportunity  to  the  door 
of  the  average  man,  and  the  heroic  incentive  to 
the  mind  of  the  exceptional  man.  We  deplore  this 
kind  of  opportunity  and  this  kind  of  incentive. 
The  cost  is  fearful,  to  be  reckoned  largely  in  the 
price  which  others  must  pay;  but  men  recognize 
the  opportunity  and  feel  the  incentive.  It  would 
be  worse  than  idle  for  us  to  ignore  the  quick  transi- 
tion which  war  may  effect  in  responsive  natures 
from  the  commonplace  or  the  cynical  to  the  sacri- 
ficial and  the  sublime.  No  one  of  us  can  deny,  nor 
can  we  read  unmoved,  the  testimony  of  those  who 
have  passed  or  are  now  passing  through  this  ex- 
perience. A  poet,  of  the  quality  of  Rupert  Brooke, 
reborn  out  of  the  experience  of  the  present  war 
and  at  the  cost  of  his  life,  has  the  right  to  be  heard. 

"  Now,  God  be  thanked  who  has  matched  us  with  his  hour, 

And  caught  our  youth,  and  wakened  us  from  sleeping, 
With  hand  made  sure,  clear  eye,  and  sharpened  power, 

To  turn,  as  swimmers  into  cleanness  leaping, 
Glad  from  a  world  grown  old  and  cold  and  weary, 

Leave  the  sick  hearts  that  honor  could  not  move, 
And  half-men,  and  their  dirty  songs  and  dreary, 

And  all  the  little  emptiness  of  love!" 

The  demoralization  attending  the  present  war 
is  as  appalling  as  the  physical  ruin  that  it  has 
wrought,  but  we  are  none  the  less  awed  and 


164    THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM 

abashed  in  the  presence  of  the  spiritual  transforma- 
tions which  it  is  effecting  in  the  lives  of  individual 
men,  and  even  of  nations.  Probably  no  phenom- 
enon connected  with  the  war  has  been  so  impres- 
sive as  the  spiritualization  of  France. 


Whenever  a  moral  movement  has  reached  the 
stage  at  which  it  becomes  a  problem  the  fact  may 
be  accepted  as  evidence  of  its  vitality.  Problems 
do  not  vex  declining  causes.  It  is  the  function 
of  a  problem  to  deepen  and  strengthen  the  move- 
ment which  it  arrests,  provided  it  is  understood 
and  treated  as  a  problem.  It  is  not  well  to  try  to 
force  the  issue  which  it  raises  by  the  stress  of  moral 
passion,  or  to  attempt  to  smother  it  by  sentiment. 
A  problem  is  not  solved  in  that  way.  The  prob- 
lem of  peace  cannot  be  solved  by  intensifying  the 
crusade  against  war.  What  very  many  wish  to 
know  before  enlisting  in  the  cause  of  universal 
peace  is  the  full  moral  purport  of  the  peace  move- 
ment: what  is  its  attitude  toward  the  supreme 
issues  of  the  present  war;  what  its  relation  to  the 
causes  of  the  social  strife;  what  its  provision  for 
the  satisfaction  of  things  fundamental  in  human 
nature.  The  popular  distrust  of  the  peace  move- 
ment, growing  out  of  the  present  uncertainty,  con- 
stitutes, as  it  seems  to  me,  the  immediate  problem 


THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM  165 

of  peace;  and  my  contention  is  that  the  only  prac- 
tical way  of  solving  this  problem  is  by  removing, 
so  far  as  possible,  the  causes  which  have  created 
it.  My  further  contention  is  that  the  attempt  to 
solve  the  problem  of  peace  in  this  practical  way 
will  deepen  and  strengthen  the  peace  movement 
at  the  point  where  it  most  needs  depth  and 
strength.  The  peace  movement  cannot  be  said  to 
be  lacking  in  respect  of  means  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  its  purpose,  many  of  which  bear  the  marks 
of  constructive  statesmanship.  What  it  most  lacks 
is  motive  power,  due  to  its  failure  to  reach  down 
into  those  deep  undercurrents  of  popular  convic- 
tion, which,  when  once  reached,  carry  a  movement 
on  to  its  conclusion. 

Evidently  the  most  effective  step  that  can  be 
taken  toward  removing  the  causes  of  distrust  is 
to  define  peace:  to  put  forward,  to  begin  with,  a 
definition  which  shall  declare  unmistakably  its 
full  moral  bearing  upon  present  conditions.  Such 
a  definition  should  attempt  to  show,  not  simply 
how  peace  may  be  achieved,  but  what  kind  of 
peace  is  to  be  striven  for,  what  to  be  accepted, 
what  to  be  rejected.  It  is  confessedly  difficult  to 
define  peace  apart  from  its  relations  at  any  given 
time  to  existing  conditions.  The  sentiment  of 
peace  lends  itself  to  vague  generalizations,  or  to 
aphorisms  which  crumble  before  specific  moral 


166    THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM 

tests.  The  familiar  aphorism  of  Franklin,  "There 
never  was  a  good  war  or  a  bad  peace,"  has  been 
passed  along  the  peaceful  generations  on  the 
strength  of  Franklin's  reputation  for  political 
sagacity.  It  was  quickly  forgotten,  if  indeed  it 
was  ever  generally  known,  how  vehemently  the 
saying  was  repudiated  by  its  author  when  he  was 
confronted  by  the  possible  application  of  it  to  a 
treaty  of  peace  between  the  colonies  and  Great 
Britain  which  might  impugn  their  loyalty  to  their 
allies.  Writing  to  his  English  friend,  David  Hart- 
ley, under  date  of  February  2,  1780,  he  said,  "If 
the  Congress  have  entrusted  to  others,  rather 
than  to  me,  the  negotiations  for  peace,  when  such 
shall  be  set  on  foot,  as  has  been  reported,  it  is  per- 
haps because  they  may  have  heard  of  a  very  singu- 
lar opinion  of  mine,  that  there  hardly  ever  existed 
such  a  thing  as  a  bad  peace,  or  a  good  war,  and 
that  I  might  therefore  be  easily  induced  to  make 
improper  concessions.  But  at  the  same  time  they 
and  you  may  be  assured,  that  7  should  think  the 
destruction  of  our  whole  country,  and  the  extirpation 
of  our  whole  people,  preferable  to  the  infamy  of 
abandoning  our  allies."  * 

1  Bigelow's  Franklin,  vol.  n,  p.  498.  Exception  has  been  taken  to 
the  above  reference  to  Franklin  as  implying  that  he  renounced  his 
aphorism  on  peace.  The  implication  does  not  follow  from  the  lan- 
guage used,  or  from  the  point  of  contention  in  the  paragraph.  It  is  not 
denied  that  Franklin  continued  the  use  of  the  aphorism  after  the 


THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM  167 

The  creed  of  peace  should  be  aggressive;  it 
should  also  be  defensible  —  aggressively  defensi- 
ble. It  should  anticipate  and  challenge  all  doubts 
and  suspicions.  With  this  intent  the  creed  of  peace 
for  to-day  should  start  out  of  the  reaffirmation 
of  the  great  loyalties.  If  justice  and  liberty  are  to 
be  transferred  from  the  guardianship  of  war  to 
the  guardianship  of  peace,  the  acceptance  of  the 
trust  should  be  announced  in  no  uncertain  terms. 
It  is  quite  useless  to  evade  or  even  to  defer  the 
announcement,  for  the  time  is  at  hand  when  the 
attitude  of  the  peace  movement  to  the  issues  of 
the  war  must  be  made  evident  by  its  attitude  to 
the  terms  of  settlement.  The  present  ambiguity 
must  soon  end.  Whenever  it  ends,  the  position 
then  taken  will  determine  the  fortune  of  the  cause 
of  universal  peace  in  the  mind  of  this  generation. 
I  can  conceive  of  no  greater  setback  to  the  cause 
than  the  acceptance,  in  the  name  of  peace,  of  a 
"peace"  which  should  celebrate  the  triumphs  of 
militarism.  I  can  conceive  of  no  greater  betrayal 
of  the  cause  than  the  acceptance,  in  the  name  of 
peace,  of  a  "peace"  which  should  make  the  viola- 
tion of  Belgium  the  tragedy  of  the  twentieth  cen- 
tury, as  the  partition  of  Poland  became  the  tragedy 

date  of  this  letter.  What  is  here  affirmed  is  that  Frankliii  "  vehemently 
repudiated  the  saying"  when  confronted  by  a  certain  possible  appli- 
cation of  it,  the  instance  having  been  cited  to  show  that  "such  apho- 
risms are  liable  to  crumble  before  specific  moral  tests." 


168    THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM 

of  the  eighteenth  century.  The  time  may  come 
when  the  long-delayed  protest  in  behalf  of  Bel- 
gium must  be  made  to  save  the  cause  of  peace,  if 
it  cannot  save  Belgium.  How  much  more  signifi- 
cant and  how  much  more  effective  than  a  protest, 
the  timely  avowal  in  the  creed  of  peace  of  the  su- 
preme allegiance  of  peace  to  liberty! 

Next  to  a  clear  definition  of  peace  in  its  rela- 
tion to  the  moral  issues  of  the  war,  as  an  aid  in 
removing  popular  indifference  to  the  peace  move- 
ment, I  put  the  expression  of  active  sympathy 
with  efforts  to  abate  the  social  strife.  This  does 
not  imply  a  diversion  of  purpose  or  a  dissipation 
of  energy.  Sympathy  between  related  moral 
causes  is  always  to  be  expected.  It  is  to  be  ex- 
pected that  sympathy  will  be  active  where  causes 
are  closely  identified.  The  relation  of  the  social 
strife  to  war  is  evident.  No  less  evident  is  the 
reason  for  sympathetic  if  not  mutual  struggle  for 
the  suppression  of  each.  The  advocates  of  peace, 
as  has  been  suggested,  may  well  regard  industrial- 
ism as  an  elementary  school  for  the  practice  of  the 
methods  of  peace.  Insistence  upon  the  use  of  this 
opportunity  at  the  present  time  may  be  deemed 
inopportune,  but  it  cannot  be  regarded  as  inop- 
portune for  the  peace  movement  to  come  into  far 
closer  sympathy  than  is  now  apparent  with  what 
is  known  distinctively  as  the  social  movement. 


THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM    169 

And  further  still,  if  a  radical  change  is  to  be 
effected  in  the  popular  attitude  toward  the  peace 
movement,  peace  itself  must  be  made  more  repre- 
sentative of  the  positive  elements  of  human  na- 
ture. War  is  the  perversion  of  a  very  great  and  a 
very  noble  instinct,  the  desire  to  conquer.  A  great 
deal  that  is  best  in  human  endeavor  takes  that 
form.  The  instinct  for  conquest  is  latent  in  all 
strenuous  work,  in  the  closest  investigation  and  re- 
search, and  in  the  struggle  for  moral  reform.  To- 
day it  has  an  unlimited  range  for  activity  in  the 
sphere  of  industry,  of  science,  and  of  religion.  It 
is  an  instinct  which  must  be  recognized  to  the  full 
if  we  are  to  continue  the  struggle  for  the  conquest 
either  of  nature  or  of  human  nature.  Whatever 
may  be  the  apparent  claims  of  consistency  in  our 
advocacy  of  peace,  I  believe  that  we  must  make 
it  clear  above  all  dispute  that  we  hold  fast  to  one 
great  reservation  —  the  reservation  of  the  right 
and  of  the  duty  of  moral  conflict,  including  the 
liabilities  which  conflict  may  involve.  So  far  as 
we  can  look  into  the  future,  the  permanency  of 
peace  must  rest  upon  the  courageous  exercise  of 
this  reserved  right  and  duty. 

At  the  beginning  of  this  article  I  avowed  my 
belief  in  the  practicability  of  universal  peace.  In 
full  view  of  what  has  been  written  I  renew  the 


170    THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM 

avowal  of  my  faith.  But  the  peace  to  which  I  sub- 
scribe is  not  merely  the  cessation  of  war.  A  vari- 
ety of  causes  may  operate  to  bring  about  the  ces- 
sation of  the  present  war,  not  one  of  which  may 
be  to  the  honor  of  peace.  The  cessation  from  war 
may  be  prolonged  for  a  century  through  causes 
not  one  of  which  may  be  to  the  honor  of  peace. 
The  time  is  past,  in  the  interest  of  peace,  for  bal- 
ances of  power  and  concerts  of  nations.  The  peace 
for  which  the  world  waits  will  rest  upon  the  securi- 
ties which  peace  has  to  offer  in  its  own  right,  under 
its  own  name,  guaranteed  by  its  loyalties  to  the 
inalienable  rights  of  men,  and  enforced,  if  need  be, 
by  the  powers  under  its  authority.  The  signifi- 
cant and  encouraging  fact  about  peace  is  that  the 
higher  its  aim  and  the  broader  its  scope,  the  more 
practicable  it  seems.  The  one  reason  for  its 
present  claim  to  practicality  lies  in  its  claim  to 
universality.  Put  this  claim  aside,  and  the  ques- 
tion may  be  asked  of  the  men  of  peace  in  this  gen- 
eration, "  What  do  ye  more  than  others?  "  Hav- 
ing made  this  daring  advance,  it  behooves  us  to 
see  to  it  that  we  do  not  weaken  it  by  those 
unreasonable  demands  for  quick  results  which 
characterize  the  spirit  of  our  generation.  The  es- 
sential part  of  our  task  in  this  great  business  of 
peace-making  seems  to  me  to  lie  in  the  attempt 
to  give  peace  the  requisite  moral  standing  in  the 


THE  CRUX  OF  THE  PEACE  PROBLEM  171 

eyes  of  the  world.  It  is  beyond  our  power  to  give 
those  assurances  that  must  have  the  sanction  of 
time,  but  we  may  at  least  hope  to  remove  those 
suspicions  and  distrusts  which  embarrass  us  in 
our  work,  and  which,  if  not  removed,  must  em- 
barrass all  future  workers  for  peace. 


VII 

ON  THE  CONTROL  OF  MODERN 
CIVILIZATION 

A  QUESTION  of  far-reaching  significance  has  been 
raised  by  the  war,  though  lying  outside  its  im- 
mediate issues;  namely,  that  of  the  responsibility 
of  a  given  generation  for  the  course  of  civilization 
within  its  limits.  Except  for  the  war  this  ques- 
tion would  have  passed  over  our  generation.  We 
should  have  been  concerned  simply  with  the  con- 
ventional question,  What  response  can  we  best 
make  to  the  stimulus  of  the  current  civilization  — 
how  completely  can  we  absorb  its  culture?  The 
question  which  is  actually  forcing  itself  upon  us 
is  altogether  different;  not  at  all  a  question  of  re- 
sponse, but  rather  of  control.  Can  we  conserve  the 
strength  of  modern  civilization,  and  at  the  same 
time  restrain  those  tendencies  which  have  reached 
such  startling  but  not  illogical  results  in  the  war? 
Probably  no  generation  was  ever  before  confronted 
so  directly  with  the  danger  of  an  uncontrolled 
civilization. 

Modern  civilization  has  been  by  distinction  a 
civilization  of  power.    Its  cultural  effects,  though 


CONTROL  OF  MODERN  CIVILIZATION    173 

clear  and  distinct,  have  been  secondary.  It  has 
been  a  civilization  of  natural  forces,  of  physical 
laws,  of  mechanical  devices,  of  organization.  The 
exponent  of  its  power,  and  of  its  beneficence,  is 
the  machine.  The  progress  of  mechanical  inven- 
tion measures  the  advance  of  material  welfare. 
We  are  all  conscious  that  we  have  become  the 
passive  beneficiaries,  or  the  passive  instruments, 
of  the  civilization  which  dominates  our  lives. 

In  what  has  thus  come  to  be  the  habitual  reli- 
ance upon  material  power  we  have,  I  think,  the 
explanation  of  the  otherwise  strange  contradic- 
tion in  the  experiences  of  the  modern  man;  on 
the  one  hand,  a  sense  of  power  rising  at  times  to 
arrogance,  and  on  the  other  hand,  a  sense  of  help- 
lessness involving  at  times  an  abject  surrender 
to  the  environment.  In  our  more  confident 
moods  we  vaunt  our  alliance  with  the  forces  of 
nature,  but  not  infrequently  we  are  made  to  feel 
that  we  have  to  do  with  things  which  are  irresist- 
ible and  inevitable.  Something  of  this  sense  of 
the  irresistible  and  the  inevitable  has  come  over 
us  in  the  retrospect  of  the  causes,  the  agencies, 
and  the  instrumentalities  which  worked  together 
toward  the  war.  We  see  the  steady,  cumulative 
power  of  the  material  forces  which  were  in  opera- 
tion. The  retrospect  discloses  no  counteracting 
human  agencies  at  work  equal  to  the  task. 


174    CONTROL  OF  MODERN  CIVILIZATION 

For  the  same  reason  many  entertain  a  like  feel- 
ing regarding  the  outcome  of  the  war.  Only  let 
the  horrible  struggle  cease,  let  such  readjustments 
be  made  as  may  measurably  satisfy  conflicting 
interests,  let  the  channels  of  trade  be  reopened, 
let  the  arts  of  peace  be  revived  —  what  more  can 
be  expected?  The  answer  to  such  pessimism, 
however  widespread,  is  that  it  gives  a  painfully 
insufficient  outcome  to  the  war.  The  war  has 
ploughed  deep  into  the  life  of  individuals  as  well 
as  of  nations.  Many  of  the  questions  which  it 
has  started  are  out  of  reach  of  diplomacy  and 
statesmanship.  The  complete  question  is  not  the 
reconstruction  of  Europe,  nor  yet  that  of  absolut- 
ism or  democracy.  There  is,  I  believe,  a  growing 
sense  that  we  do  not  reach  the  essential  issues 
involved  till  we  come  into  conscious  and  respon- 
sible relation  to  the  civilization  which  allowed  the 
war  and  brought  it  to  so  great  magnitude.  Any 
result,  commensurate  with  the  war,  must  consist 
in  some  corresponding  change  effected  in  the 
spirit  and  temper  of  the  civilization  which  gave 
it  its  vitality  and  scope. 

When  we  ask  how  so  great  a  result  is  to  be  ef- 
fected we  are  not  left  entirely  to  faith.  Civiliza- 
tion is  open  at  any  time  to  the  influence  of  great 
popular  movements,  or  to  the  influence  of  con- 
vincing ideas.  No  one  can  predict  the  source  of 


CONTROL  OF  MODERN  CIVILIZATION    175 

these  renewing  or  controlling  influences,  but  it  is 
not  the  mark  of  a  visionary  temperament  to  an- 
ticipate them.  History  justifies  the  spirit  of  sane 
expectancy.  Some  "renaissance,"  some  "refor- 
mation," some  "revolution,"  some  unheralded  or 
some  carefully  organized  movement  may  occur 
to  change  the  course  of  civilization,  quite  as 
effectually  as  a  great  discovery  or  a  great  inven- 
tion. But  in  respect  to  the  hope  of  a  change  in 
the  controlling  tendencies  of  modern  civilization 
the  chief  reason  must  be  found  in  the  necessity 
for  the  awakening  of  our  generation  to  its  re- 
sponsibility. I  have  referred  to  that  passive  ac- 
quiescence which  has  characterized  our  relation 
to  the  material  forces  which  have  controlled  our 
present  civilization.  But  over  against  the  easy 
and  seemingly  helpless  continuance  of  this  passive 
attitude  on  the  part  of  our  generation  looms  the 
overshadowing  danger  of  our  continued  irre- 
sponsibility. Modern  civilization,  if  left  to  those 
tendencies  which  have  brought  us  to  present  con- 
ditions, seems  more  and  more  a  moral  impossi- 
bility. 


Evidently  the  immediate  and  most  urgent  re- 
sponsibility of  our  generation  toward  the  civili- 
zation which  dominates  it  is  to  effect  the  transfer 


176    CONTROL  OF  MODERN  CIVILIZATION 

of  authority  from  war  to  peace,  to  establish,  that 
is,  the  moral  authority  of  peace.  There  are  condi- 
tions under  which  war  is  not  an  uncivilizing  force. 
On  the  contrary,  it  has  played  an  important  part 
in  civilization,  when  it  has  been  invoked  in  the 
interest  of  liberty  or  justice.  But  when,  as  at 
present,  war  takes  possession  of  the  nations,  and 
sits  astride  civilization,  the  first  concern  must 
be  to  throw  off  the  unnatural  bondage.  War  as 
a  state  of  national  existence  is  not  according  to 
civilization.  It  has  its  justification  as  a  permanent 
and  ready  resort  only  to  insure  security  and  order. 
When  provision  can  otherwise  be  made  for  these 
ends,  and  made  effectively,  there  can  be  no  longer 
legitimate  occasion  for  resort  to  war,  except  under 
the  stress  of  revolution. 

But  all  this  implies  an  authoritative  substitute 
for  war.  Any  thought  of  peace  that  lacks  the  ele- 
ment of  authority  is  futile.  The  term  "moral" 
simply  solidifies  and  strengthens  the  conception 
of  authority:  for  the  authority  of  peace,  in  dis- 
tinction from  that  of  war,  must  rest  upon  the 
moral  sense  of  the  civilized  world,  thoroughly 
educated  and  thoroughly  organized.  Of  these 
two  requisites  for  the  sufficient  moral  authority 
of  peace,  education  and  organization,  the  former 
represents  the  long,  persistent  process  of  train- 
ing, and  in  many  cases  of  transforming,  the  mind 


CONTROL  OF  MODERN  CIVILIZATION    177 

of  the  nations.  We  are  indebted  to  an  unexpected 
source  for  a  definition  of  peace  of  refreshing  sim- 
plicity. "Peace,"  said  Juarez,  Mexican  patriot 
and  jurist,  "peace  is  respect  for  the  rights  of 
others."  This  definition  at  once  diverts  the  mind 
from  all  thoughts  of  the  enjoyments  and  luxuries 
of  peace  and  fixes  it  upon  the  most  self-denying 
and  altruistic  of  its  duties.  The  training  of  any 
nation,  even  the  most  advanced,  in  respect  for  the 
rights  of  other  nations  is  an  arduous  task.  The 
acknowledgment  of  the  rights  of  other  nations 
seems  often  incompatible  with  the  full  assertion 
of  the  rights  of  one's  own  nation.  And  not  infre- 
quently the  difficulty  is  aggravated  by  the  asser- 
tion of  very  questionable  rights  on  the  part  of  an 
opposing  nation.  This  is  liable  to  be  the  embar- 
rassment to  fair  dealing  between  a  strong  and  a 
weak  nation,  as  we  are  finding  in  our  present 
dealings  with  Mexico.  But  the  principle  stands 
as  the  great  educative  principle  in  the  process  of 
training  a  nation  for  peace.  And  until  the  prin- 
ciple has  been  mastered  we  have  no  right  to  ex- 
pect that  peace  can  supplant  war  in  effecting  any 
suitable  guaranty  of  order  or  justice. 

The  education  of  a  people,  therefore,  in  the 
responsibilities  of  peace  must  attend,  if  not  pre- 
cede, all  efforts  to  give  to  peace  any  compelling 
authority.  From  the  nature  of  the  case  the  main- 


178   CONTROL  OF  MODERN  CIVILIZATION 

tenance  of  peace  cannot  rest  primarily  upon  force. 
But  granting  that  the  authority  of  peace  must  be 
essentially  moral,  it  does  not  follow  that  there 
can  be  any  lack  in  the  fundamental  means  of 
enforcing  peace.  Organized  peace  is  the  only 
peace  which  stands  for  authority:  and  organiza- 
tion must  include  all  the  elements  of  authority  — 
public  opinion,  law,  economic  control,  and,  in  re- 
serve, the  force  of  consenting  states.  The  heart 
and  substance  of  organized  peace  is  international 
law.  There  is  the  seat  of  authority.  Law  does 
not  cease  in  any  respect  to  be  law  when  it  becomes 
international.  "The  civilized  world,"  says  Mr. 
Root,  "will  have  to  determine  whether  what  we 
call  international  law  is  to  be  continued  as  a  mere 
code  of  etiquette  or  is  to  be  a  real  body  of  laws 
imposing  obligations  much  more  definite  and  in- 
evitable than  they  have  been  heretofore.  It  must 
be  one  thing  or  the  other."  But  before  this  deci- 
sion can  be  made  clear  and  effective,  there  lies  the 
slow  and  painstaking  process  of  the  reconstruc- 
tion of  international  law:  and  when  the  necessary 
reconstruction  has  been  made  and  accepted,  then 
there  lies  the  problem  of  enforcement.  The  out- 
look might  seem  disheartening,  were  it  not  that 
the  arduous  and  protracted  work  involved  is  pre- 
cisely the  work  needed  to  give  the  requisite  moral 
character  to  peace.  Peace  needs  to  borrow  from 


CONTROL  OF  MODERN  CIVILIZATION   179 

war  most  of  the  qualities  which  have  made  war  a 
persistent  force  —  determination,  invention,  cour- 
age, and  assurance.  The  struggle  impending  is 
for  nothing  less  than  the  mastery  of  the  nations. 
Without  doubt  the  struggle  will  necessitate  at 
some  point  the  use  of  force.  It  is  almost  impossible 
to  conceive  of  law  as  reaching  the  stage  of  control 
without  meeting  with  occasion  for  the  use  of  the 
practical  means  of  control.  Force  is  far  less  to  be 
feared  in  the  interest  of  peace  than  the  failure  to 
use  it  when  demanded  by  the  authority  of  inter- 
national law.  Whenever  the  occasion  for  national 
preparedness  passes,  it  may  be  reasonably  ex- 
pected that  much  of  the  spirit  of  preparedness 
will  go  over  into  the  defense  of  the  new  agree- 
ments and  obligations  assumed.  I  think  that  we 
cannot  overestimate,  however,  the  determined 
state  of  mind  necessary  for  gaining  control  of 
civilization  in  the  interest  of  peace.  The  peace- 
making required  will  supplant  war  only  by  assum- 
ing and  using  many  of  those  characteristics  which 
have  made  war  honorable  as  well  as  effective,  and 
which  are  capable  of  rendering  peace  no  less 
honorable  and  effective.  If  the  transfer  of  author- 
ity from  war  to  peace  is  to  be  effected,  peace  must 
be  considered  primarily,  not  as  an  instrumental- 
ity for  securing  and  maintaining  peace,  but  as 
an  instrumentality  for  securing  and  maintaining 


180   CONTROL  OF  MODERN  CIVILIZATION 

order,  justice,  and  liberty,  and  for  accomplishing 
these  results,  if  need  be,  at  the  price  of  peace. 

As  I  have  already  intimated  in  these  discussions 
of  war  and  peace  our  chief  reliance  in  the  attempt 
to  transfer  authority  from  war  to  peace  must  be  on 
diplomacy.  Other  things  being  equal  the  nation 
which  has  the  strongest  diplomatic  service  will  be 
the  surest  safeguard  of  peace.  But  there  are  auxil- 
iary peace-makers  which  every  nation  ought  to 
have  in  training.  I  refer  especially  to  the  use  of 
that  increasing  class  of  persons  possessed  of  a  reli- 
able and  sympathetic  knowledge  of  the  people  and 
affairs  of  some  other  one  nation.  If  such  persons 
could  be  sufficiently  organized  to  act  promptly  in 
times  of  international  emergency  by  giving  pub- 
licity to  the  influences  which  are  at  work  for  peace, 
much  peril  might  be  averted  on  the  first  intima- 
tions of  danger.  Something  has  been  accomplished 
in  this  way  in  the  endeavor  to  interpret  the  recip- 
rocal relations  of  the  United  States  and  Japan. 

ii 

The  unsuspected  aptitude  of  modern  civiliza- 
tion for  the  uses  of  war  has  brought  more  clearly 
to  light  its  tendency  to  develop  the  mechanical 
above  the  human.  It  is  only  as  we  see  the  mean- 
ing of  wide  contrasts  that  we  can  take  the  measure 
of  those  contradictions  and  antagonisms  which 


CONTROL  OF  MODERN  CIVILIZATION   181 

pass  under  our  daily  notice.  The  greatest  con- 
trast under  modern  civilization  lies  in  the  field 
of  industrialism  —  the  contrast  between  the  cease- 
less output  of  mechanical  invention  and  the  strug- 
gle for  social  existence.  Within  the  limits  of  this 
contrast  fall  the  organized  contentions  between 
capital  and  labor,  and  the  endless  variations  of  the 
social  unrest.  It  is  impossible  to  estimate  these 
conditions  fairly,  or  even  to  understand  them,  ex- 
cept by  reverting  to  the  point  of  view  at  either 
extreme.  Take,  for  example,  the  following  opinion 
of  a  labor  expert  as  to  the  ground  of  difference 
between  organized  labor  and  scientific  manage- 
ment: "Superficially  it  is  apparent  that  organ- 
ized labor  has  taken  a  stand  for  restriction  of 
output,  and  for  reversion  to  mediaeval  industrial 
conditions.  A  careful  examination  of  the  underly- 
ing causes  of  this  opposition  will  reveal  that  such 
is  not  necessarily  the  case.  The  fundamental 
difference  between  the  point  of  view  of  the  wrorker 
and  the  employer  lies  in  the  definition  of  effi- 
ciency, and  the  methods  and  devices  used  in 
achieving  it.  ...  The  fundamental  objection  of 
organized  labor  to  scientific  management  is  that 
it  lacks  the  spirit  of  democracy.  Organized  labor 
is  a  social  ideal,  not  an  industrial  ideal,  and  de- 
fines efficiency  in  terms  which  are  not  confined  to 
the  shop  or  to  the  amount  of  work  which  a  laborer 


182   CONTROL  OF  MODERN  CIVILIZATION 

can  turn  out.  To  organized  labor  efficiency  means 
the  efficiency  of  a  man  as  a  citizen,  and  not  as  a 
working  unit.  If  a  worker  is  used  so  that  at  the 
end  of  the  day  he  is  exhausted,  does  not  eat  his 
meal  with  relish,  cannot  read  his  newspaper  in 
ease,  pushes  the  baby  away  from  him  with  an- 
noyance, he  is  not  an  efficient  citizen."  By  con- 
trast the  attitude  of  scientific  management  is  fa- 
vorable to  the  individual  worker,  giving  him  the 
chance  to  earn  according  to  his  individual  ability 
and  desire,  but  it  takes  little  account  of  the  "so- 
cial ideals"  of  labor.  Its  aim  is  to  increase  the 
output.  It  strives  to  make  the  human  factor  as 
efficiently  productive  as  the  machine  which  the 
man  tends.  The  ideal  of  capital  is  the  advance 
of  social  welfare  through  the  increase  of  produc- 
tion. In  estimating  the  social  value  of  the  capi- 
talist the  fact  must  not  be  overlooked  or  minimized 
that  capital  represents  in  large  degree  the  energiz- 
ing mind  of  the  country. 

It  is  difficult  to  understand  how  much  of  the 
stimulus  of  modern  civilization  has  gone  into 
mechanical  invention,  and  into  the  organizations 
necessary  to  give  it  effect.  The  vast  system  of  in- 
dustrialism is  the  omnipresent  sign  of  it,  but  even 
that  fails  to  represent  the  absorption  of  mind  in 
the  mechanism  of  modern  life.  In  our  attempts 
to  solve  the  intricate  problem  of  wealth  we  assign 


CONTROL  OF  MODERN  CIVILIZATION   183 

the  proportion  due  to  labor  very  much  according 
to  our  sympathies.  Labor  is  by  comparison  with 
mechanical  invention  a  definite  quantity.  It  has 
a  cash  value.  The  value  due  to  mechanical  inven- 
tion is  relatively  a  matter  of  conjecture,  but  it 
must  be  almost  immeasurable.  It  has  not  only 
multiplied  many-fold  the  product  of  each  laborer, 
it  has  created  a  considerable  part  of  the  popula- 
tion which  it  employs.  What  we  have  termed  the 
proletariat  is  in  no  small  degree  the  product  of  the 
machine. 

The  essential  fact,  however,  is  not  that  mod- 
ern wealth  has  its  origin  so  largely  in  mechanical 
invention,  but  that  modern  civilization  finds  its 
chief  interest  in  the  mechanical  rather  than  in 
the  human.  Modern  civilization  has  shown  no 
absorbing  passion  for  humanity,  such  as  charac- 
terized the  great  epochs  of  civil  and  religious 
progress.  In  place  of  this  it  has  shown  an  absorb- 
ing interest  in  physical  discoveries  and  inventions. 
That  these  discoveries  and  inventions  have  min- 
istered greatly  to  human  welfare  is  beyond  dis- 
pute, but  it  can  hardly  be  assumed  that  an  impel- 
ling human  impulse  has  been  the  chief  intention. 
Modern  science  has  little  of  the  lofty  scorn  of 
Cuvier  for  the  utilities  and  practicalities  which 
are  open  to  it,  but  neither  can  it  be  said  that  the 
inventor  has  the  zeal  of  the  reformer.  Modern 


184   CONTROL  OF  MODERN  CIVILIZATION 

science  is  far  from  being  mercenary,  but  it  is  not 
human.  Its  primary  interests  are  not  in  men,  but 
in  things.  Its  great  values  lie  in  forces:  they  are 
not  human  values. 

With  all  respect  and  even  reverence  for  the 
values  introduced  and  maintained  by  science,  it 
is  not  too  soon  to  strive,  and  to  strive  with  inten- 
sity and  with  expectation  for  the  readjustment 
and  enlargement  of  those  values  which  are  inher- 
ent in  humanity  itself,  inherent,  that  is,  in  men 
and  women,  many  of  whom  are  below  the  aver- 
age in  attainment  and  power.  We  are  accus- 
tomed to  speak  of  the  present  as  a  humanitarian 
age;  and  such  it  is  when  measured  by  its  acts  of 
charity,  by  its  sensitiveness  to  cruelty,  and  es- 
pecially by  the  fruits  of  medical  service.  But 
when  measured  by  the  actual  value  which  it 
puts  upon  whatever  is  simply  human,  the  age 
can  lay  little  claim  to  a  reverent,  to  a  wise,  or  to 
an  economical  valuation  of  humanity.  The  very 
struggle  to  secure  some  of  the  most  necessary 
social  and  economic  reforms  shows  the  reluctance 
of  the  public  mind  to  part  with  its  low  and  sordid 
valuations.  The  slow  passage  of  bills  for  the  relief 
of  child  labor  in  many  of  the  state  legislatures, 
and  in  the  Congress,  is  evidence  of  the  niggardli- 
ness of  public  opinion  in  so  primitive  a  matter  as 
that  of  rights,  and  of  its  gross  ignorance  or  un- 


CONTROL  OF  MODERN  CIVILIZATION   185 

concern  in  respect  to  the  higher  matter  of  human 
values. 

I  think  that  the  time  has  come  when  the  idea 
of  social  and  economic  human  values  must  be 
made  to  take  its  place  among  the  ruling  ideas  of 
civilization.  At  present  it  does  not  hold  the  place 
which  the  religious  and  the  political  conceptions 
of  human  nature  have  held  in  the  civilizations 
under  their  control.  It  is  now  largely  a  question 
of  reform,  making  its  appeal  from  manifest  neg- 
lects or  abuses,  but  nowhere  asserting  itself  with  the 
commanding  force  of  a  ruling  idea.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  is  overshadowed  by  the  new  estimates 
placed  upon  matter  and  force.  The  revaluation 
of  the  human  factor  in  the  social  and  economic 
world  must  be  regarded  strictly  as  an  intellec- 
tual process,  as  much  so  as  any  process  of  science. 
It  cannot  be  relegated  to  sentiment,  or  even 
to  morality.  It  belongs,  where  all  questions  of 
values  belong,  within  the  range  of  intellectual 
appreciation  and  authority. 

Such  an  intellectual  revaluation  of  human  life, 
as  it  exists  under  present  social  and  economic 
conditions,  is  necessary  because  of  the  diminishing 
values  fixed  by  conventions  and  organizations. 
No  one  can  fail  to  see,  for  example,  that  the  more 
advanced  working  man  has  outgrown  the  trades- 
unions;  not  that  they  have  ceased  to  be  effective 


186   CONTROL  OF  MODERN  CIVILIZATION 

for  certain  uses,  but  that  they  are  no  longer  ade- 
quate for  the  higher  uses.  Within  the  field  of 
economic  progress  it  is  becoming  evident  that  we 
have  not  reached  the  final  result  in  collective  bar- 
gaining. Further  progress  waits  upon  more  and 
better  education.  To  recall  the  labor  expert  from 
whom  I  have  quoted:  "Industrial  democracy  will 
be  gained  through  an  adequate  system  of  indus- 
trial education.  .  .  .  The  worker  must  be  taught 
the  intricate  relationship  between  operation  and 
operation,  between  cost  and  values,  between  effi- 
ciency and  profits.  Industrial  education  must 
teach  the  worker  the  principles  of  efficient  man- 
agement. ...  In  order  to  bring  this  about  I  be- 
lieve that  organized  labor  should  avail  itself  of 
the  same  expert  counsel,  in  the  problems  of  indus- 
trial management,  as  that  retained  and  utilized 
by  the  employer;  that  organized  labor  should 
study  its  own  problems  with  the  same  scientific 
attitude  that  prevails  in  the  methods  of  capital 
and  engineering;  that  contentions,  complaints, 
and  grievances  of  labor  should  be  the  subject  of 
scientific  research  in  the  hands  of  competent  ex- 
perts, and  the  data,  with  the  attending  opinions 
of  counsel  attached,  turned  over  to  labor  as  a 
basis  of  action."  Here  is  the  hope  and  promise  of 
an  increasing  industrial  equality  through  educa- 
tion, which  means  the  elevation  of  the  human 


CONTROL  OF  MODERN  CIVILIZATION   187 

factor  in  industry.  Is  it  not  at  last  apparent  that 
the  so-called  question  of  capital  and  labor  has 
become,  because  of  its  human  implications,  not 
merely  a  question  of  business  or  of  reform,  but  a 
question  of  civilization? 

HI 

Another  aspect  of  modern  civilization  suggests 
the  need  of  control  —  in  the  way  of  expansion.  I 
refer  to  its  spiritual  provincialism.  It  has  nar- 
rowed and  otherwise  restricted  the  range  of  the 
spiritual  life.  Modern  civilization  brought  in  the 
religion  of  agnosticism,  the  religion,  that  is,  of 
verifiable  knowledge.  Faith  was  eliminated.  Mr. 
Huxley,  the  author  of  the  term  "agnostic  in 
its  modern  application,"  has  given  in  personal 
terms  its  religious  significance.  Writing  to  his 
friend  Charles  Kingsley,  he  said:  "It  is  no  use 
to  talk  to  me  of  analogies  and  probabilities.  I 
know  what  I  mean  when  I  say  that  I  believe  in 
the  law  of  the  hi  verse  squares,  and  I  will  not 
rest  my  life  and  my  hopes  upon  weaker  convic- 
tions." And  again:  "I  cannot  see  one  shadow 
or  tittle  of  evidence  that  the  great  unknown 
underlying  the  phenomena  of  the  universe  stands 
to  us  in  the  relation  of  a  Father  —  loves  us  and 
cares  for  us  as  Christianity  asserts.  So  with  re- 
gard to  the  other  great  Christian  dogmas,  immor- 


188  CONTROL  OF  MODERN  CIVILIZATION 

tality  of  soul  and  future  state  of  rewards  and 
punishments,  what  possible  objection  can  I  —  who 
am  compelled  perforce  to  believe  in  the  immor- 
tality of  what  we  call  Matter  and  Force,  and  in  a 
very  unmistakable  present  state  of  rewards  and 
punishments  for  our  debts  —  have  to  these  doc- 
trines? Give  me  a  scintilla  of  evidence  and  I  am 
ready  to  jump  at  them." 

Of  course  a  religion  without  faith  is  no  more 
a  religion  than  air  is  air  without  oxygen.  Agnos- 
ticism, however,  produced  two  distinct  religious 
effects:  it  compelled  the  verification  of  all  verifi- 
able data  of  the  Christian  faith,  and  it  with- 
drew attention  from  the  other-worldly  aspects  of 
Christianity  to  those  duties  and  opportunities 
which  abound  in  this  world.  Indirectly  it  gave 
to  Christianity  its  very  marked  humanitarian 
tendencies.  But  agnosticism  is  the  chief  cause 
of  the  present  spiritual  provincialism.  It  broke 
the  close  religious  connection  between  the  mod- 
ern and  the  preceding  ages.  It  did  more  than  to 
introduce  the  critical  spirit  into  the  thought  of  the 
age,  it  introduced  the  spirit  of  intellectual  con- 
tempt: and  nowhere  was  this  spirit  so  clearly  and 
so  bitterly  manifested  as  against  the  religious 
faith  of  the  past.  And  yet  nowhere  was  the  resid- 
uum of  inherited  truth  so  great  as  within  the 
realm  of  religion.  In  common  with  science  and 


CONTROL  OF  MODERN  CIVILIZATION   189 

history  religion  was  dispossessed  of  much  which 
had  been  held  as  fact,  but  religion  was  still  pos- 
sessed of  vast  deposits  of  human  experience  which 
criticism  could  not  disturb.  The  present  age  can 
afford  to  be  more  self-contained  in  respect  to  any 
or  all  other  matters  than  in  respect  to  religion.  The 
greatest  possible  loss  which  can  come  to  us  in  our 
inheritances  is  the  loss  of  connection  with  the  great 
ages  of  faith,  a  loss  of  which  we  are  at  times  ap- 
prised through  our  sense  of  spiritual  provincialism. 

I  believe  that  nothing  can  bring  back  to  us  that 
repose  of  mind,  as  essential  as  is  intellectual  ad- 
venture or  struggle  to  the  assurance  of  progress, 
except  the  restoration  of  the  sense  of  historical 
continuity.  In  spite  of  our  seeming  dislocation 
from  the  order  of  the  world  we  are  still  a  part  of 
the  world  that  has  been  and  of  the  world  that  is  to 
be.  The  supreme  office  of  faith  in  our  generation  is 
to  help  us  to  replace  ourselves  in  the  Divine  order. 

The  effect  of  agnosticism  is  still  more  marked 
in  the  detachment,  to  so  large  an  extent,  of  the 
religious  life  from  the  realization  of  the  future. 
The  religious  problem  of  the  modern  man  has 
been  said  to  consist  in  "the  distance  of  God  and 
in  the  indifference  of  Nature."  To  these  factors 
in  the  problem  should  be  added  a  third  —  the 
dimness  of  the  future  world.  True,  immortality 
remains  an  irrepressible  hope.  But  it  would  be 


190  CONTROL  OF  MODERN  CIVILIZATION 

far  too  much  to  say  that  it  is  an  ever-present  and 
urgent  reality.  And  yet  the  assurance  of  immor- 
tality, reaching  to  some  clear  and  energizing  sense 
of  it,  was  meant  to  be  the  great  endowment  by 
Christianity  of  the  human  race,  its  chief  aid  to 
man  in  his  endeavor  "to  be  not  only  himself,  but 
more  than  himself."  The  attainment  of  this  end 
is  not  effected  through  "thinking  but  the  thoughts 
of  time."  To  the  degree  in  which  agnosticism 
shuts  down  the  spiritual  horizon  it  reduces  the 
spiritual  power  of  the  age. 

The  control  of  civilization  in  the  interest  of 
religion  is  not  to  be  considered.  The  two  are  dis- 
tinct. But  civilization,  now  as  always  the  com- 
prehensive term,  must  have  due  regard  to  all 
vitalizing  forces  which  it  includes.  These  must 
never  lack  for  room,  for  freedom,  for  atmosphere. 
If  there  is  lack  in  any  of  these  regards,  there  should 
be  positive  and  effective  action  in  their  behalf. 
Protest  is  not  sufficient.  The  duty  of  assertion  is 
manifest.  I  believe  that  the  time  is  at  hand  for 
the  larger  assertion  of  the  spiritual  life,  meaning 
thereby  the  life  of  faith.  All  that  can  be  asked  of 
civilization  at  this  point  is  room,  a  sufficient  ex- 
pansion to  include  the  results  of  spiritual  develop- 
ment. All  else  must  come  through  the  pressure 
of  the  spiritual  life  itself.  But  this  will  be  sufficient. 
It  is  wonderful  how  the  spirit  of  man  gains  its 


CONTROL  OF  MODERN  CIVILIZATION    191 

ground  when  it  is  quickened  and  enlarged  to  its 
normal  capacity.  Is  it  too  much  to  expect  that 
faith,  as  expressing  the  aspirations  and  demands 
of  the  human  spirit,  is  yet  to  acquire  a  firmer  foot- 
ing and  larger  holdings,  amid  the  crowded  and 
resisting  forces  of  a  material  civilization?  Rather 
is  it  not  unbelievable  that  a  generation  which  has 
been  brought  face  to  face  with  the  everlasting 
realities,  and  held  so  long  in  their  presence,  should 
allow  itself  to  remain  the  easy  subject,  or  the  pas- 
sive instrument,  of  an  uncontrolled  civilization? 

A  civilization  of  power  cannot  be  shared  with- 
out due  regard  to  its  liabilities.  These,  however, 
are  discernible.  In  this  respect  it  has  a  moral  ad- 
vantage over  most  civilizations  of  culture  or  of 
faith.  Its  dangers  are  less  insidious.  They  are 
never  disguised.  At  times  they  challenge  atten- 
tion. The  distinction  of  living  under  a  civilization 
of  power  is  heightened  by  the  acceptance  of  the 
responsibility  involved.  When  this  responsibility 
takes  the  form  of  control,  whether  by  restraint 
or  by  direction,  the  generation  entrusted  with  the 
task  may  find  itself  accorded  an  unusual  place  in 
the  records  of  civilization. 


THE   END 


APPENDIX 


APPENDIX 
THE  NEW  MOVEMENT  IN  HUMANITY 

(1892) 

I  FIND  the  sufficient  motive  for  speaking  to  you  to-day 
in  the  consciousness,  which  I  assume  is  as  clear  in  your 
minds  as  in  my  own,  that  we  are  in  the  midst  of  one 
of  those  greater  movements  in  humanity  which  I  can 
best  characterize,  according  to  my  sense  of  it,  by  say- 
ing that  it  is  a  movement  from  liberty  to  unity.  It  is 
the  result  largely,  I  believe,  of  the  intellectual  advance 
of  the  last  generation,  bringing  in  new  principles  and 
methods  and  another  ruling  idea.  Without  dwelling, 
however,  at  very  much  length  upon  the  causes  which 
are  producing  the  change,  I  desire  to  attempt  an  esti- 
mate of  its  practical  meaning  and  value,  and  to  note 
especially  the  effect  of  it  upon  some  of  those  interests 
with  which  we  have  most  to  do,  and  upon  which  the 
effect  is  now  beginning  to  be  appreciable. 

Virtually  this  movement  from  liberty  to  unity  has 
already  brought  us  into  the  presence  of  a  new  humanity. 
The  effect  of  such  a  movement  is  like  that  of  the  old 
migration  of  races.  Change  of  thought  produces  new 
characteristics  in  a  race,  like  change  of  place.  That 
which  makes  a  new  humanity  is  another  conception 
of  it,  great  enough  to  change  its  aspect,  and  to  modify, 
in  some  respects  at  least,  its  condition.  Humanity  is 
at  any  given  time  what  the  ruling  conception  of  it  is. 
Not  that  the  fact  ever  corresponds  exactly  to  the  idea, 
but  that  the  fact  is  always  other  than  it  would  be  if 
the  idea  had  not  come,  or  had  come  in  a  different  form. 


196  APPENDIX 

The  monotony  of  human  existence,  the  living  and  dy- 
ing of  the  generations,  is  thus  broken  at  long  intervals 
by  the  incoming  of  ideas  directed  toward  and  laying 
hold  upon  the  developed  mind  of  the  race,  reopening, 
it  may  be,  the  questions  of  origin  and  destiny,  and 
changing  the  measurements  and  valuations  of  human 
life.  I  speak  of  the  thought  which  lays  immediate  hold 
upon  the  mind  of  the  race,  affecting  the  estimate  of  it- 
self, for  the  first  direction  of  intellectual  movements  is 
quite  as  often  away  from  as  toward  humanity.  Other 
objects  control  the  imagination  or  conscience,  some- 
thing pertaining  to  God  or  to  the  outer  universe.  True, 
there  is  always  an  attendant  and  reflex  influence  from 
thought  upon  these  subjects,  with  the  after  result,  as 
I  hope  soon  to  illustrate,  of  a  positive  enlargement  and 
enrichment  of  all  human  interests ;  but  it  is  of  the  direct 
and  intentioned  and  applied  thought  as  related  to 
these  interests  of  which  I  am  now  speaking,  and  in 
which  I  find  peculiar  value. 

The  return  of  the  intellectual  life  to  humanity  as  the 
object  of  its  thought,  after  its  searchings  after  God, 
or  its  wanderings  in  the  outer  universe,  is  always  hailed 
with  an  enthusiasm  which  cannot  be  misunderstood. 
The  absence  of  the  intellect  at  any  time  on  other  busi- 
ness, leaving  human  affairs  to  the  sense  of  obligation 
or  to  the  play  of  the  sympathies,  creates  a  veritable 
homesickness  in  many  minds.  Here  and  there  a  soli- 
tary thinker  seems  to  find  supreme  repose  and  content 
at  the  farthest  remove  from  all  that  is  human,  freedom 
from  its  limitation,  relief  from  its  transitoriness ;  but 
the  mood  of  most  thinkers  finds  expression,  does  it 
not?  in  the  pathetic  words  of  one  of  your  own  number, 
who  wrote  in  the  preface  to  a  volume  through  which 
he  committed  himself  to  the  remembrance  of  his  fellow- 
men,  "  To  me  the  firelight  on  the  hearthstone  of  home 


APPENDIX  197 

is  more  attractive  than  the  brightest  star  in  the  far-off 
heavens." 

Now  there  is,  as  I  believe  (the  assumption  is  the 
premise  of  my  argument),  there  is  a  return  to-day  of  the 
intellectual  life  to  humanity  as  one  of  the  chief  objects 
of  its  interest;  and  not  only  this,  but  in  the  return  it 
has  brought  with  it  a  new  working  conception  of  hu- 
manity. The  growing  sign  of  the  social  bond  is  not 
sentiment,  hardly  sympathy,  but  intellectual  concern. 
It  could  not  well  have  been  otherwise.  Our  inheritance 
from  the  immediate  past  is  not  passion,  but  method, 
mental  processes,  the  habit  of  critical  and  speculative 
thought.  There  have  been  epochs  of  passion  which 
have  made  history,  but  it  cannot  be  said  that  the  epoch 
from  which  we  are  emerging  has  been,  in  any  large 
sense,  an  epoch  of  passion.  It  has,  indeed,  held  the 
great  wars  for  national  unity,  the  unity  of  Italy  and 
Germany,  and  the  reunification  of  America;  but  no 
one,  I  think,  would  find  in  these  wars  the  depths  of 
that  passion  which  raged  in  the  French  Revolution,  or 
which  exulted  in  the  American  and  English  Revolu- 
tions. These  burned  into  their  age,  and  illumined  it 
with  the  flame  of  liberty.  No,  our  direct  inheritance 
is  of  a  different  sort,  and  necessarily  determines  our 
approach  to  the  human  questions  which  are  beginning 
to  vex  and  alarm  us. 

The  great  business  of  our  immediate  predecessors, 
which  will  mark  their  time  in  history,  was  not  to  arouse 
sentiment  or  passion  to  high  uses,  but  rather  to  stimu- 
late investigation,  to  increase  knowledge,  to  invent 
hypotheses,  to  get  at  the  method  of  the  universe.  Of 
no  period,  compared  with  that  which  has  just  gone  be- 
fore us,  can  the  claim  be  made  of  such  careful  or  varied 
research,  or  of  such  resolute  and  courageous  reason- 
ing. What  age  ever  invaded  to  a  like  extent  the  known 


198  APPENDIX 

realms  of  nature,  or  challenged  with  a  like  audacity 
the  mystery  of  existence?  By  the  logic  of  events,  there- 
fore, we  are  committed  to  the  intellectual  rather  than 
to  the  emotional,  or  even  to  the  purely  sympathetic 
method  of  accomplishing  the  tasks  which  have  fallen 
to  us.  Our  predecessors  have  been  trying  to  think  out 
the  problems  of  the  physical  world;  they  have  left  to 
us  the  endeavor  to  think  out  the  problems  of  the  human 
world.  The  stream  of  the  intellectual  life  along  which 
we  are  borne  has  broken,  —  part  flowing  through  worn 
channels  into  the  physical  world,  part  making  new 
channels  through  which  it  may  enter  into  all  the  re- 
gions of  the  human  world.  There  can  be  no  incon- 
sistency between  the  parts,  but  rather  a  constant  inter- 
change of  methods  and  principles. 

And  the  fact  which  I  now  wish  to  emphasize  is  this: 
that  the  great  constructive  force  which  we  are  taking 
over  from  the  results  of  physical  science,  and  which 
we  are  trying  to  apply  to  the  current  problems  of  hu- 
manity, is  the  sense  of  the  organic,  which,  as  we  transfer 
it  to  things  human,  becomes  the  consciousness  of  a  vital 
unity.  Man  has  found  a  new  place  for  himself  in  the 
physical  world,  with  new  partnerships,  alliances,  affini- 
ties. By  the  same  method  and  under  the  same  impulse 
he  is  now  beginning  to  discover  and  realize  new  rela- 
tionships to  himself,  each  man  to  every  other  man,  the 
individual  to  the  whole.  It  is  this  sense  of  the  organic, 
the  inheritance  of  the  last  results  of  thought,  and  now 
permeating  all  our  thinking,  which  is  giving  us  the  new 
conception  of  humanity;  which,  as  I  have  said,  is  vir- 
tually giving  us  a  new  humanity.  It  marks  the  move- 
ment from  liberty  to  unity. 

Let  me  then  go  on  to  note,  according  to  my  pur- 
pose, some  of  the  effects  of  this  conception  or  sense  of 
the  organic,  that  we  may  get  an  estimate  of  its  value, 


APPENDIX  199 

as  we  are  beginning  to  act  under  the  motive  of  it  in  mat- 
ters of  human  interest  and  concern. 

Naturally  our  first  inquiry  is  in  regard  to  its  educa- 
tional effect.  What  is  its  value  in  the  development  of 
personality?  Personality,  as  we  are  accustomed  to  ac- 
count for  its  higher  developments,  seems  to  us  to  be 
almost  entirely  the  outgrowth  of  individual  freedom. 
Possibly  we  overlook  the  moral  effect  of  that  earlier 
stage  of  authority  and  discipline  which,  in  contrast 
with  the  free  and  mobile  conditions  of  the  present,  we 
call  status;  but  allowing  that  personal  development  has 
been  coincident  and  coextensive  with  individual  free- 
dom, the  question  can  no  longer  be  delayed,  How  much 
more  has  the  individual  to  gain  from  a  continued  and 
protracted  individualism?  I  do  not  ask  whether  indi- 
vidualism is  a  spent  force.  There  are  no  spent  forces  of 
this  vital  sort.  Positive  and  constructive  forces  change 
places,  overlap  one  another,  act  and  react  by  antago- 
nisms, but  never  seek  to  destroy  one  another.  Subor- 
dination, not  annihilation,  is  the  law  of  their  mutual 
action.  So  they  cooperate. 

When,  therefore,  I  ask  how  much  more  the  individual 
may  hope  to  gain  from  a  continued  and  protracted  in- 
dividualism, I  am  really  asking  whether  individualism 
may  rightly  project  itself,  according  to  the  scope  of  its 
traditions,  into  the  new  domain  of  thought  and  action. 
As  against  its  ancient  foe,  —  despotism  of  every  kind, 
intellectual,  political,  religious,  —  individualism  holds 
good  for  all  time.  But  if  it  is  attempted  to  maintain  in 
its  behalf  a  supremacy  based  upon  these  conquests, 
serious  inquiry  must  be  made  into  the  nature  of  the 
new  antagonisms  which  it  is  sure  to  arouse.  And  if  it 
shall  be  found  that  the  rigid  insistence  upon  this  prin- 
ciple of  personal  development  brings  it  now  into  con- 
flict, not  with  that  which  is  arbitrary  and  artificial, 


200  APPENDIX 

but  with  that  which  is  vital  and  organic,  not  with  that 
superimposed  upon,  but  with  that  at  work  within 
society,  it  will  at  once  be  seen  that  the  contention  is 
unseemly  and  wasteful.  It  must  be  carried  on  at  the 
expense  of  the  individual.  I  must  continue  to  resist 
with  all  my  nature  the  forces  from  without  which  are 
seeking  to  enslave  me,  be  they  many,  be  they  great, 
be  they  of  men,  or  of  institutions,  or  of  philosophies  and 
beliefs;  but  the  personal  forces  which  are  seeking  to  en- 
ter in  and  become  a  part  of  my  being,  entering  through 
inheritance,  through  friendship,  through  the  mutual 
toil  and  struggle  and  mystery  and  faith,  through  the 
thousand  ways  in  which  I  am  open  to  the  common  hu- 
manity, these  I  must  learn  to  recognize  and  under- 
stand, to  treat  with  a  wise  discrimination  and  with  a 
generous  hospitality,  else  I  shall  certainly  be  less  than 
I  might  be:  my  liberty  will  bring  me  only  the  narrow- 
ness of  my  own  self;  my  individualism  will  end  in  iso- 
lation. 

I  confess  to  you  that  I  anticipate  with  a  profound 
faith  the  advantage  to  character  from  the  larger  edu- 
cation of  the  individual  in  his  relations  to  others,  pro- 
vided these  relations  are  taught  according  to  the  reality 
and  breadth  of  the  underlying  fact.  The  training  of 
the  schools  in  this  direction  has  already  begun.  The 
number  of  text-books  inculcating  the  social  duty,  is- 
sued within  the  past  years,  is  surprising,  some  of  them 
of  very  great  merit.  Indeed,  it  may  be  said  that  we  are 
beginning  to  work  toward  the  social,  in  distinction 
from  the  individualistic  ideal.  As  a  careful  observer 
has  recently  remarked,  "The  individualistic  ideal  is 
still  the  one  which  is  actually  dominant;  but  it  can 
scarcely  be  doubted  that  it  has  ceased  to  be  that  which 
governs  the  thought  of  those  who  are  under  five-and- 
twenty;  and  there  is  some  danger  now  that  we  may  be- 


APPENDIX  201 

gin  to  forget  the  element  of  truth  which  was  contained 
in  it.  Enthusiasm  is  on  the  other  side." 

We  cannot  forget  the  truth  which  lies  at  the  heart  of 
individualism,  any  more  than  we  can  forget  the  joy 
of  liberty,  but  we  may  fail  to  reach  the  full  truth  which 
lies  at  the  other  pole.  The  understanding  of  the  organic 
in  humanity  is  far  more  than  the  knowledge  of  social 
rights  and  duties.  In  a  very  true  sense  it  lies  below  the 
ethical.  It  is  the  apprehension  of  the  fact  from  which 
the  ethical  is  an  inference.  As  St.  Paul  says  in  enforc- 
ing the  organic  element  in  Christianity,  "  We  are  mem- 
bers one  of  another";  —  that  is  the  new  Christian 
fact,  —  "  wherefore,  putting  away  falsehood,  speak  ye 
truth,  each  one  with  his  neighbor.  Let  him  that  stole 
steal  no  more :  but  rather  let  him  labor,  working  with  his 
hands  the  thing  that  is  good,  that  he  may  have  whereof 
to  give  to  him  that  hath  need.  Let  no  corrupt  speech 
proceed  out  of  your  mouth,  but  that  which  is  good  for 
edifying,  that  it  may  give  grace  to  them  that  hear"; 
and  so  on,  step  by  step,  rising  from  the  fact,  inference 
by  inference,  till  he  reaches  the  sublime  duty  of  for- 
giveness. In  like  manner  we  need  to  go  down  in  all  our 
social  teachings  to  the  broad  underlying  fact  of  the  or- 
ganic in  humanity,  to  uncover,  expound,  illustrate,  vivify 
the  fact.  So  shall  we  get  strength  and  vitality  for  every 
legitimate  inference,  in  the  way  of  a  duty,  which  can 
be  drawn  from  it.  We  shall  give  to  our  general  social 
duties  something  of  the  imperativeness  and  urgency 
of  nature,  qualities  which  have  as  yet  been  developed 
and  honored  only  in  the  life  of  the  family. 

Of  course  there  is  a  danger,  which  any  one  may  em- 
phasize, to  the  development  of  personality  on  this  side, 
from  the  present  stimulus  of  the  social  want.  It  is  hard 
to  generalize  in  the  presence  of  the  concrete,  hard  to 
think  to  any  purpose  abouL  poverty  when  the  beggar 


202  APPENDIX 

is  knocking  at  your  door.  We  are  apt  to  take  refuge  in 
hasty  and  ill-advised  action,  and  get  the  sure  result  of 
it  in  an  enfeebled  social  character.  Sympathy,  which 
acts  without  reference  to  principles,  makes  it  more 
difficult  to  establish  principles.  The  philanthropy 
which  is  content  to  relieve  the  sufferer  from  wrong 
social  conditions  postpones  the  philanthropy  which  is 
determined  at  any  cost  to  right  those  conditions.  Let 
us  not,  however,  bewail  overmuch  our  circumstances, 
nor  ignore  the  advantage  of  them.  Mere  contact  with 
the  world  may  tend  to  superficiality,  but  we  can,  if 
we  will,  go  deeper  into  the  world.  Men  may  distract 
us  with  their  hurrying  to  and  fro,  but  there  is  always  a 
point  of  equilibrium  somewhere  in  the  mass.  Our  social 
environment  has  its  use  in  the  development  of  person- 
ality, as  it  has  its  necessity.  Say  what  we  will  of  the 
desert  and  wilderness,  whence  came  of  old  the  voice 
of  the  prophet,  we  are  in  and  of  the  city,  and  our  only 
way  to  escape  men  is  to  get  nearer  to  them,  to  press 
through  the  outer  confusion  to  the  common  and  inner 
life,  which  understood,  all  else  becomes  intelligible. 

And  I  may  add  that  here,  too,  lies  the  only  way  of 
escaping  the  commonplace.  The  charge  is  frequently 
made  that  if  we  subordinate  the  individualistic  ideal, 
the  commonplace  is  our  ultimate  goal.  Two  excep- 
tions to  this  sweeping  charge  are  evident.  Genius 
knows  no  ideals,  nor,  as  far  as  we  can  discover,  condi- 
tions. As  we  have  not  been  able  to  produce  it,  it  is  not 
likely  that  we  shall  be  able  to  prevent  it.  And  the 
heroic  belongs  in  like  degree  to  the  unexpected  and  in- 
calculable. When  you  open  your  morning  paper,  you 
do  not  know  from  what  source  the  tidings  of  the  unself- 
ish act  will  come  to  you,  which  will  help  you  to  keep 
faith  in  your  kind  and  in  yourself.  But  these  aside,  is 
it  not  true  —  true  not  only  now,  but  permanently  — 


APPENDIX  203 

that  the  ascending  path  to  individual  greatness  lies 
through  the  thick  of  humanity  rather  than  along  the 
outskirts  of  it?  We  allow  that  the  average  man  profits 
by  the  general  experience.  Is  it  not  more  evident  that 
the  exceptional  man  profits  by  that  experience?  Does 
he  not  become  exceptional  by  the  very  power  to  inter- 
pret and  incorporate,  to  lay  hold,  as  Mr.  Emerson  says, 
of  the  "unsearched  might  of  man"?  Certainly  the 
scholar  who  is  now  able  to  read  with  a  new  intelligence 
the  volume  of  humanity  may  hope  to  outgrow  himself, 
and  gradually  learn  to  live  in  the  vaster  regions  of  his 
being. 

I  turn  from  the  question  of  the  educational  value  of 
the  new  conception  or  sense  of  the  organic  in  humanity 
to  ask  about  its  influence  upon  the  social  order,  to  see 
what  is  the  strength  of  its  impulse  towards  the  social 
unity.  We  are  just  beginning  to  speak  in  a  popular  way 
of  the  social  order.  Until  of  late,  the  dominant  order 
has  been  the  political,  with  its  doctrine  of  natural  rights. 
History  gives  us  no  example  of  an  idea  put  to  more 
effective  uses  than  this  doctrine  of  natural  rights.  We 
cannot  conceive  how  the  battles  of  modern  liberty 
could  have  been  fought  without  it.  The  "glittering 
generalities"  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence  were 
no  rhetorical  device  to  the  men  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, but  a  principle  to  which  they  "  pledged  their  lives, 
their  fortunes,  and  their  sacred  honor."  And  as  long 
as  the  political  order  remained  in  the  ascendant,  as 
long,  that  is,  as  the  essential  need  was  personal  liberty, 
the  appeal  to  this  principle  never  failed  to  carry  a  popu- 
lar assembly. 

I  have  recently  been  reminded  through  the  public 
prints  of  an  incident  —  possibly  some  of  you  may  recall 
it  —  which  illustrated  the  last  serious  and  effective 
appeal  made  to  ,the  doctrine  of  natural  rights.  At  the 


204  APPENDIX 

convention  which  nominated  Mr.  Lincoln  to  the  presi- 
dency, Joshua  R.  Giddings  endeavored  to  amend  the 
reported  platform  of  the  Republican  Party  by  "sol- 
emnly reasserting"  the  words  of  the  Declaration,  that 
"all  men  are  endowed  by  their  Creator  with  certain 
inalienable  rights,  among  which  are  life,  liberty,  and 
the  pursuit  of  happiness."  The  mood  of  the  convention 
was  conservative.  It  wanted  above  all  things  to  take 
advantage  of  the  division  of  the  Democratic  Party,  and 
to  conciliate  and  harmonize  its  own  constituency.  Mr. 
Giddings's  amendment  was  rejected.  At  this  juncture 
George  William  Curtis  arose,  and  in  a  speech  of  splen- 
did directness  and  courage  challenged  the  men  of  the 
convention,  if  they  dared,  to  put  themselves  on  record 
against  the  men  of  1776,  "to  vote  down  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence."  The  challenge  was  well  made. 
No  political  assembly  could  afford  to  justify  that  im- 
putation. The  motion  to  reject  was  reconsidered,  the 
amendment  adopted,  and  the  words  of  the  Declara- 
tion, as  was  befitting  a  party  born  to  the  struggle  with 
slavery,  inserted  in  its  platform. 

Nothing  shows  in  so  striking  a  way  the  rapid  changes 
which  have  since  taken  place  in  social  conditions  and 
necessities  as  the  fact  that  there  is  hardly  a  conceiv- 
able situation  in  this  country  in  which  such  an  appeal 
would  have  to-day  any  considerable  force.  Practically 
we  have  exhausted  the  power  of  liberty  to  win  any 
further  legitimate  rights,  or  to  gain  for  us  a  larger 
happiness.  To  whom  amongst  us  would  more  liberty 
be  a  greater  good?  What  conditions  of  present  suffer- 
ing or  distress  would  it  satisfy?  Who  could  arise  in  the 
midst  of  our  social  confusion  and  get  a  hearing  by  in- 
voking the  name  of  liberty?  The  real  worth  of  liberty, 
its  inestimable  value,  is  in  danger  of  being  underesti- 
mated. Our  attention  has  been  called  by  publicists 


APPENDIX  205 

like  fimile  de  Laveleye  and  James  Bryce  to  the  grow- 
ing dissatisfaction  and  discontent  over  the  final  results 
of  its  work,  as  if  it  had  not  made  good  its  promises,  as 
if  it  had  not  kept  faith  with  men  who  had  trusted  to  it 
with  all  their  heart.  No  one  can  mistake  the  feeling  of 
disappointment  and  sadness  on  the  part  of  some  of 
our  own  better  citizens,  that  liberty  is  taking  no  safer 
care  of  the  republic. 

On  the  other  hand,  many  amongst  us  whose  tradi- 
tions do  not  reach  back  into  the  old  contests  for  free- 
dom, and  some  whose  traditions  do  reach  back  into 
these  contests,  are  making  no  more  mention  of  liberty, 
but  are  raising  another  watchword.  The  new  cry  is 
equality.  Let  us  stop  and  interpret  it.  It  is  not  to  be 
assumed  that  classes,  any  more  than  individuals,  say 
what  they  mean  or  mean  what  they  say.  Equality  is 
not  the  thing  we  want,  for,  in  the  nature  of  things,  we 
cannot  have  it.  We  want  the  possible  and  real.  What 
we  mean,  when  we  say  equality,  is  unity.  That  is  neces- 
sary and  that  is  possible.  Equality  is  a  vain,  unmean- 
ing cry.1  You  cannot  analyze  it  and  apply  it  to  the 
affairs  of  men.  It  has  no  practical  synonyms.  But  unity 
shapes  itself  to  a  thousand  ends,  and  covers  the  wide 
vocabulary  of  practical  and  vital  means.  Cooperation, 
partnership,  sympathy,  fellowship,  are  terms  which 
merely  indicate  the  working  of  the  principle  as  it  seeks 
to  adjust  industrial  relations  and  to  ennoble  social 
relations.  And  the  principle  is  working.  Its  workings 
are  evident  from  the  very  antagonisms  which  it  is  cre- 
ating in  the  industrial  world.  Capital  and  labor  are 
coming  together  through  combinations  and  trades 
unions,  through  lockouts  and  strikes,  as  well  as  through 
profit-sharing  and  partnerships.  The  principle  is  enter- 

1  The  term  has  gained  a  new  meaning  since  these  words  were 
written.  See  "  Goal  of  Equality." 


206  APPENDIX 

ing  upon  its  first  stage  of  victory.  It  requires  organ- 
ized resistance  to  thwart  it. 

Its  workings  are  equally  evident  in  the  increased 
sensitiveness  of  society  to  contrasts  in  condition.  Out- 
wardly the  extremes  are  pushing  farther  and  farther 
apart,  but  really  and  personally  they  are  nearer  than 
ever  before.  The  subtle  consciousness  of  suffering  is 
becoming  pervasive.  The  rich  man  knows  that  Lazarus 
is  without  among  the  dogs.  We  take  life  as  a  whole 
more  seriously  because  we  see  more  clearly  the  diverse 
ingredients  of  which  it  is  composed.  We  have  no  longer 
any  eye  for  the  picturesque  under  the  garb  of  poverty. 
The  artistic  gives  way  to  the  sympathetic.  The  under 
side  of  social  life  does  not  appeal  to  our  sense  of  humor. 
We  do  not  caricature  our  social  contrasts.  The  typical 
tenement-house  with  its  dense,  monotonous  popula- 
tion has  nothing  whatever  to  contribute  to  the  relief 
of  society,  but  only  additional  friction,  irritation,  and 
social  despair. 

And  this  increased  sensitiveness  is  not  merely  a  mat- 
ter of  feeling.  There  is  beginning  to  be  a  genuine  move- 
ment toward  fellowship.  The  old  idea  of  working  for 
men  is  being  modified  by  the  larger  principle  of  identi- 
fication with  them.  The  college  settlement  will  not 
supersede  the  mission,  but  it  will  put  beside  it  the 
broader  conception  of  social  unity.  As  far  as  it  is  reli- 
gious in  its  aim  it  will  include  all  which  Christianity, 
as  we  know  it  and  enjoy  it,  has  to  offer.  It  will  make 
service  mean,  not  what  we  are  able  to  do  for  others, 
but  what  we  are  willing  to  share  with  others. 

And  all  this  which  I  have  been  saying  shows  us  how 
far  away  we  are  from  the  old  doctrine  of  natural  rights. 
I  do  not  stop  now  to  question  its  truth.  It  is  enough  to 
say  that  it  is  no  longer  at  the  front  and  in  service.  The 
deepest  consciousness  of  men  is  not  of  inborn  and  in- 


APPENDIX  207 

alienable  rights,  but  of  a  common  inheritance,  common 
interests,  and  a  common  destiny.  Their  deepest  crav- 
ings are  not  for  independence,  but  for  oneness,  for  a 
social  order  which  shall  correspond  in  some  measure 
to  the  organic  unity  of  the  race. 

It  remains  to  consider  the  effect  of  the  new  concep- 
tion of  humanity  upon  religion.  Is  it  in  any  sense  an- 
tagonistic to  the  Christian  idea,  or  has  it  here  also  a 
timely  value?  What  is  the  worth  to  Christianity  of  the 
movement  from  liberty  to  unity? 

Christianity,  when  it  came  into  the  world,  struck  the 
note  of  universality.  There  was  no  restriction  upon 
its  message.  It  was  the  "good  tidings  of  great  joy  to 
all  the  people."  But  the  history  of  Christianity  has 
proved  to  be  one  long  struggle,  more  frequently  unsuc- 
cessful than  successful,  to  maintain  its  original  scope. 
It  has  seemed  impossible  to  protect  Christianity  from 
falling  into  bondage  to  some  form  of  partialism.  Now 
it  has  been  the  partialism  of  doctrine  wrought  out  in 
the  exclusive  creed;  now  the  partialism  of  administra- 
tion embodied  in  the  exclusive  organization.  But  in 
one  way  and  another  the  Christian  Church  has  been 
continually  losing  its  connection  with  the  universal. 
And  the  significance  of  every  recovery  of  Christianity 
is  that  it  has  been  the  recovery  of  this  connection,  as 
when  Luther  restored  it  to  the  individual  by  giving  him 
immediate  contact  with  God. 

Let  no  one  think  that  I  have  forgotten  those  appar- 
ent forms  of  partialism  which  in  their  times  were  iden- 
tified with  religious  liberty.  I  do  not  forget,  as  I  speak, 
the  names  which  are  to  some  of  us  among  the  most 
precious  of  our  inheritance  —  Protestant,  Separatist, 
Independent.  But  I  deny  that  they  stood  for  partial- 
ism. They  represented  really  the  revolt  against  it. 
They  were  paths,  some  of  them,  I  grant,  obscure,  but 


208  APPENDIX 

which  surely  led  back  into  the  great  highway  of  univer- 
sality. And  to-day  the  Christian  Church,  with  one 
accord,  is  more  inclined  than  ever  before,  in  some  of 
its  parts  more  anxious  than  ever  before,  to  walk  that 
way.  It  is  really  our  historic  past  which  stands  between 
us  and  unity.  But  even  that  does  not  prevent  the  grow- 
ing spirit,  the  growing  yearning,  the  growing  conscious- 
ness. There  are  also  signs,  which  no  one  I  think  can 
fail  to  see,  of  the  coming  fact,  the  fact  of  a  real  and  sub- 
stantial unity,  if  not  of  a  prescribed  uniformity.  Let 
me  delay  long  enough  to  enumerate  them:  — 

One  sign  is  the  struggle  going  on  in  almost  every 
separate  part  of  the  Church  to  make  its  doctrines 
correspond  with  the  faith  of  Christendom.  Divisive 
and  separating  dogmas  are  being  eliminated.  One  large 
body  of  Christian  believers  in  the  midst  of  us  is  now 
convulsed  with  the  endeavor  to  cast  out  of  its  creed 
the  demon  of  partialism  and  bring  itself  back  into  the 
universal  faith. 

Another  sign  is  the  present  power  of  resistance  to 
further  division,  and  that,  too,  under  great  provocation. 
Questions  are  arising  in  our  time,  and  passing  into 
heated  discussion,  of  the  most  fundamental  and  vital 
kind,  which  in  other  times  would  have  split  the  most 
compact  body,  but  thus  far  they  have  not  divided  a 
single  communion.  The  one  ecclesiastical  sin  of  our 
age  is  schism.  Of  that  alone  we  are  intolerant. 

Another  sign  is  the  comparative  ease  of  cooperation 
throughout  the  Church.  Cooperation  has  not  become 
easy,  but  things  are  being  done,  large  public  ends  are 
being  reached  by  united  action,  which  would  not  have 
been  attempted  under  other  conditions. 

And  still  another  sign,  perhaps  the  most  significant 
of  all,  is  the  discontent  of  each  and  every  body  in  itself; 
every  one,  no  matter  how  large  it  may  be,  seeking,  like 


APPENDIX  209 

Russia  in  the  political  world,  to  get  an  outlet.  The  real 
interest  of  the  sects  to-day  is  not  in  themselves,  but  in 
Christianity.  The  great  questions,  which  engage  and 
agitate  their  councils,  are  not  how  to  administer  their 
own  affairs,  but  how  to  administer  the  common  inher- 
itance of  which  they  have  been  put  in  trust.  It  really 
seems  at  times  as  if  we  were  working  our  way  back  into 
the  original  fellowship.  The  words  of  a  far-sighted 
teacher,  which  impressed  themselves  upon  my  youth, 
frequently  recur  to  me  with  increasing  significance:  "I 
teach,"  he  said,  "  that  Independency  is  a  transient  form 
of  Puritanism,  that  Puritanism  is  a  transient  form  of 
Protestantism,  that  Protestantism  is  a  transient  form 
of  Christianity." 

And  now  if  the  question  be  asked,  whence  comes  this 
fresh  and  wide  impulse  toward  religious  unity?  I  an- 
swer, partly  from  the  historic  forces  writhin  Christianity 
which  are  always  working  toward  it,  but  also  from  the 
incoming  into  the  religious  consciousness  of  our  time  of 
the  sense  of  the  organic  in  humanity.  Nothing,  as  it 
seems  to  me,  has  ever  come  into  Christianity  from 
without,  bringing  with  it  such  support  and  reinforce- 
ment to  the  Christian  idea.  If  it  were  right  to  speak  of 
the  indebtedness  of  religion  to  science,  if,  that  is,  one 
could  properly  conceive  of  one  part  of  God's  revela- 
tion and  providence  as  owing  anything  to  another  part, 
I  should  certainly  say  that  this  conception  was  the 
most  positive  contribution  which  science  had  yet  made 
to  religion.  I  grant  that  the  process  through  which  the 
result  was  reached  was  such  as  to  awaken  the  doubts 
and  fears  of  religious  men.  No  one  would  deny  that. 
Without  question,  the  first  results  of  modern  physical 
science  were  materialistic.  They  not  only  contributed 
to  the  argument  for  materialism,  they  gave  tone  and 
spirit  to  its  advocates.  But  as  the  process  went  on, 


210  APPENDIX 

spiritual  elements  began  to  assert  themselves,  chiefly 
through  the  idea  of  force,  for  force  must  be  spirit;  the 
method  was  seen  to  be  of  general  ethical  application 
and  service;  and  principles  were  set  forth  which  gave 
a  new  meaning  and  dignity  to  religious  faith.  The 
principle  which  I  have  been  emphasizing  was  remark- 
able, in  its  religious  bearings,  for  its  timeliness.  It  had 
a  providential  value.  Wrought  out  under  suspicion,  if 
not  under  open  antagonism,  it  came  to  the  help  of 
Christianity,  as  Christian  men  were  beginning  to  feel 
the  seriousness  of  their  contention  for  unity  and  uni- 
versality. And  for  one,  acknowledging  its  aid  in  the 
providence  of  God,  I  am  ready  to  accord  it  an  honor- 
able and  rightful  place  in  the  larger  Christianity  of  the 
future. 

And  I  am  also  convinced  that,  as  this  sense  of  the 
organic  in  humanity  becomes  more  real,  it  will  bring 
back  to  religion  something  of  that  deeper  solemnity  — 
the  awe,  the  fear  —  which  seems  for  the  time  to  have 
escaped  it,  but  which  is  a  necessary  part  of  all  true 
religion.  It  shows  us  the  tremendous  cost  of  the  uni- 
verse, —  of  that  part,  at  least,  of  which  we  can  take 
cognizance.  It  uncovers  "  the  whole  creation  groaning 
and  travailing  together  in  pain  until  now."  It  opens 
unread  chapters  in  the  history  of  the  race,  chapters  of 
struggle  and  suffering  and  sin.  And  then,  as  if  in  com- 
pensation for  the  terrible  vision,  it  gives  us  a  glimpse 
of  the  sacrificial  element  which  works  at  the  heart  of 
nature,  and  which  must  work  eternally  in  the  heart  of 
God. 

I  have  thus  taken  the  opportunity  which  your  gener- 
ous invitation  afforded  me,  to  remind  you,  in  some  ways 
of  suggestion  and  possibly  of  stimulus,  of  the  meaning 
and  value  of  that  present  movement  in  humanity  which 


APPENDIX  211 

none  of  us  can  fully  realize,  but  to  which  none  of  us 
can  be  indifferent.  Opinions  may  vary  as  to  the  rela- 
tive place  to  be  assigned  to  causes  which  are  producing 
it,  whether  it  is  chiefly  the  outcome  in  natural  succes- 
sion of  the  ordinary  historic  forces,  or  whether,  as  I 
have  intimated,  it  has  been  hastened  and  intensified 
by  the  intellectual  development  of  the  last  generation. 
But  of  the  movement  itself  and  its  direction  there  can 
be  no  question  between  us.  Manifestly,  consciously, 
it  is  a  movement  from  liberty  to  unity.  The  great 
heroic  forces  which  gave  us  freedom  are  now  passing 
with  us,  or  by  us,  into  the  broad,  constructive,  unify- 
ing work  of  the  future. 

At  such  a  time  as  this  who  can  overestimate  the  joy, 
not  only  of  the  active,  but  also  of  the  reflective  life? 
To  live  consciously,  intelligently,  expectantly,  with  the 
seeing  eye,  the  open  heart,  the  loyal  faith,  —  this  is 
life  indeed.  We  are  not 

"  Wandering  between  two  worlds,  one  dead, 
The  other  powerless  to  be  born." 

The  world  we  are  leaving  behind  us  is  still  vital  with 
the  divine  impulse.  The  world  which  lies  about  us  is 
beginning  to  reveal  and  execute  the  larger  plans  of 
God.  No,  we  are  not  "  wandering,"  nor  simply  under 
directed  motion.  The  significance  of  our  time  is  that 
in  and  through  it  there  is  ;i  change  of  movement.  It  is 
as  if  one  could  now  see  the  workings  of  the  unseen 
power  shifting  the  forces  that  make  history,  that  shape 
the  destiny  of  men  and  nations.  Such,  in  part,  is  the 
advantage  of  the  intellectual  life  in  an  age  of  transition. 

But  deeper  than  the  knowledge  we  may  gain  at  such 
a  time  of  the  transfer  or  exchange  of  ruling  principles 
and  ideas  is  the  satisfaction  of  watching  the  application 
of  the  new  ideas  to  the  new  needs  of  the  world.  \Ve  are 


212  APPENDIX 

apt  to  place  too  much  dependence  upon  men  in  times 
of  need.  We  say  that  the  emergency  calls  for  the  man, 
and  must  wait  his  coming.  Not  so.  It  is  the  sufficient 
idea  which  delivers  and  saves.  It  is  great  working  ideas 
which  make  great  men  possible,  which  may  make  them 
unnecessary.  What  man  is  the  equivalent  of  the  new 
conception  of  humanity  which  is  now  at  work  recon- 
structing society,  governments,  the  Church? 

And  as  one  extends  his  view,  watching  the  applica- 
tion of  new  ideas  to  the  needs  of  the  world,  he  may  see 
the  somewhat  singular  phenomenon  of  the  old  serving 
under  the  new.  We  have  been  speaking  of  the  transfer 
of  working  power  from  liberty  to  unity.  But  the  change 
is  after  all  local,  confined  as  yet  to  the  few  advanced 
peoples.  There  are  those  for  whom  liberty  has  not  yet 
wrought  her  necessary  work.  How  shall  this  be  done? 
As  it  has  been  done?  Not  at  all.  No  other  nation  can 
repeat  the  experience  of  the  Republic.  The  days  of 
solitary  struggle  for  liberty  are  over.  The  nation  which 
fights  to-day  for  freedom  fights  in  the  fellowship  of  the 
nations  which  are  free.  The  spirit  of  unity  is  abroad, 
everywhere  supporting,  guiding,  cheering  the  belated 
spirit  of  liberty. 

But  why  should  one  at  such  a  time  content  himself, 
in  the  joy  of  the  intellectual  life,  with  the  reflective,  or 
even,  expectant  attitude?  In  this  movement  from  lib- 
erty to  unity,  who  would  not  surrender  himself  to  it, 
and  become  a  part  of  it?  The  appeal  of  liberty  was  to 
men  of  action.  The  appeal  of  unity  is  to  men  of  thought. 
The  figure  of  the  scholar  on  the  field  of  battle  was  al- 
ways inspiring,  but  he  was  seldom  a  leader  there.  In 
the  new  fields  of  service  the  scholar  leads  the  way.  The 
spirit  of  unity  cannot  be  served  as  the  spirit  of  liberty 
was  served,  except  in  regard  to  a  like  consecration. 
The  new  kingdom  of  heaven  may  riot  suffer  violence; 


APPENDIX  213 

the  violent  will  not  take  it  by  force.  The  social  unity 
must  come  through  patient  study,  wise  invention,  iden- 
tification with  men,  sympathy,  and  sacrifice;  force  will 
have  no  part  in  its  accomplishment. 

The  immediate  future  in  the  service  of  humanity 
belongs  to  those  who  are  best  able  to  discern  its  real 
wants,  who  feel  most  its  deepest  yearnings,  and  who, 
above  all,  believe  sublimely  in  that  conception  of  hu- 
manity which  can  alone  satisfy  and  help.  The  path  of 
human  progress  is  marked  by  the  succession  of  saving 
principles  and  ideas,  and  each  generation  treads  that 
path  with  certain  step,  as  it  hails  its  own  idea,  then 
summons  its  chosen  ones,  and  bids  them  guard  and 
serve  it  in  loyalty  and  faith. 


CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
U    .    S    .    A 


This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


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